


Spots Off

by CadenzaRose



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Adrien's daddy issues, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Guilt and Responsibility, It may make you cry, Lots of Phone Conversations, Marinette's insecurities, Mutual Support, did I mention mutual love and support?, friends being good friends, good feels, lots of conversations in general, mass accidental reveal, mutual love, not good feels?, whoops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-05
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-08-13 03:51:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 33,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7961380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CadenzaRose/pseuds/CadenzaRose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Through a series of unfortunate events, the world learns that Marinette is Ladybug. Now Marinette must deal with the consequences while her friends and classmates come to terms with a reality that has been carefully kept out of sight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Bad Day

You’d think that being blessed with the power of luck would mean that bad days were out of the question. Of course everything would always go right for you—with fortune on your side, why wouldn’t they? But sometimes, even the goddess of luck can have an off day. And Marinette, much to her displeasure, was living the proof of that.

The day had started off on a bad note. While she wasn’t one to get up at the first ring of her alarm, she did appreciate when it actually went _off._ It wasn’t her fault either. She had set the dang thing properly the night before, just like she always did. But apparently her phone charger had slipped out of its wall socket, because her phone was dead as anything come morning. Dead phone equals bad alarm clock. 

But bad notes can be resolved, and she got out of bed still hopeful that the day might turn around. At first, it seemed it might. After all, it was a gorgeous morning. Hardly a cloud in the sky. She opened her window and tasted the air. It was fresh and clear, with only a hint of smoke from the surrounding buildings. Yes, perhaps this day would turn out all right after all. 

A spider in her shower and a shorted hairdryer begged to differ. Breakfast did nothing to reassure her—the bread that she forgot she’d put in the toaster oven rapidly turned into twin sheets of charcoal, so she had to settle for an orange and nothing else. She arrived at school just barely on time, stomach growling, tired despite the extra ten minutes of sleep and dripping water from two rather droopy pigtails.

So much for a lovely day. Thanks, weather, you are no help at all.

She glanced up automatically for Alya when she stepped into the classroom, almost as hungry for companionship and consolation as she was for food, before remembering that Alya wouldn’t be at school until after lunch today. Stupid dentist appointments. She looked to Adrien’s desk, but he was gone, too. She mentally checked his schedule—which she only had mostly memorized, thank you very much—and remembered that he was out for an all-day photo shoot in some other part of the city. Nino was resting his head in his arms on the next desk over, groggy from a cold that was bad enough to tire him out but not bad enough to keep him home, and barely mustered an, “oh, hey, Mari” when Marinette greeted him.

Marinette flumped down onto her seat. Was there no one she could talk to today?

“Marinette, _what_ is going on with your _hair?_ ”

Oh. Of course. _Chloe._ Marinette glanced up at the ceiling, frowning at the universe that was obviously out to get her.  

“Don’t just _ignore_ me,” Chloe scoffed, glaring back at Marinette from her seat in the front row. “What did you do, walk through a carwash?”

“Leave me alone, Chloe,” Marinette muttered.

“What? Sorry, didn’t catch that, Mari _wet._ ”

“I said,” Marinette pushed herself to her feet, voice rising as she did, “leave me alone!”

“Miss Dupain-Cheng!” Madame Bustier’s voice cut through the normal classroom chatter, silencing it instantly. “I will not tolerate such disruptions in my classroom.”

Marinette felt herself deflate. “But Chloe…”

Madame Bustier’s expression did not shift. “No buts. Off to the principal.”

Everything was downhill after that. She just seemed to make more mistakes—answering questions wrong, almost falling asleep, getting caught with her phone out as she vainly checked for a text from Alya saying she’d be back early. The bell for lunch was the best sound she’d heard all day. She was looking forward to going home and having a nice, relaxing meal, maybe even a short nap or…

“Help! Help me!” screamed a voice from the courtyard. It was followed with an equal mix of crashes, bangs, and clatters.

Marinette sighed heavily and tried her best to muster up some concern. She did care about these people, from the bottom of her heart, and she knew she _should_ be worried, but sometimes… Well, let’s just say that if it was possible to get desensitized to akumas, Marinette had certainly done so. Everything would turn out _fine_. Couldn’t people figure that out? Couldn’t the screamy ones at least figure it out? It would be so much nicer if…

She shook her head. That was tired, cynical Marinette talking. Tired, cynical Marinette needed to shut up so Ladybug Marinette could focus. She ducked into the bathroom and transformed.

The universe seemed to decide she deserved a bit of a break at this point, because the akuma was an easy one. It was a bit tricky to start out with because Chat took his time showing up, but after he finally arrived, they were able to take it out in a flash, and a literal one at that. Some kid had apparently had a bad time on school picture day and was running around freezing people in the strangest, most awkward positions imaginable before scribbling on their face with what, by all appearances, was just a normal permanent marker. It wasn’t, of course, and Ladybug was able to snatch it from him after getting him to pose for what she had convinced him would be the perfect do-over photo. Poor kid. She snapped it easily in her hands, purified the akuma, and tossed the lucky charm camera into the air with rather less enthusiasm than normal. Chat noticed.

“Everything okay, LB?” he asked as they watched the tiny ladybugs soar around the city.

“Yeah. Fine,” she said. He raised an eyebrow at her, but she didn’t elaborate. She didn’t feel like talking.

“Well, if you say so, I guess,” he said, holding up his fist. She felt an honest smile creep onto her face as they did their ceremonial bump.

Then she heard a bell. Lunch was over.

The smile slid off her face.

“Gotta go,” she told Chat, trying very hard not to sigh. Self-pity looked bad on her, she knew, but _boy_ was she feeling it.

She chose a nearby alley as her hiding place. It was perhaps a bit more exposed than the spots she usually picked, but it hid her from the eyes of the casual passerby, and honestly, she couldn’t be bothered to go any further. She was tired and hungry and did not feel like being lectured for being late. Again.

She should have taken the lecture.

The second she released her transformation, she heard a clatter from somewhere behind her. She whirled around, hands raised, ready to strike. The akuma was gone. Who could-

Then Marinette saw, and her whole being stuttered to a gut-wrenching halt.

Alya.

For a moment, they simply stared at each other. Marinette’s eyes flicked from Alya’s face—the picture of incredulous astonishment—and the ground at her feet, where there lay a familiar phone with a tiny ladybug charm and a brand-new hairline fracture.

“M-marinette?” she breathed, raising her hands to her mouth. “You’re _Ladybug_?”

Marinette had nothing to say. The day had been bad before, but this was worse. Far worse. This could have consequences, consequences she didn’t even want to think about right now. She wanted to run away, to transform and swing herself home and get out of this terrible, awkward, dangerous situation.

Her identity had been compromised. She had built a million hypothetical situations where the world fell apart when that happened. She began to play through them now, picture after picture flicking behind her eyelids like an old-fashioned screen projector. Everything was over. Everything would break. Everyone was going to find out who she was, and then Hawkmoth would too, and then…

She forced herself to take a deep breath. Alya was her friend. She would be able to keep this secret. This may not be ideal, but it would be okay. They would make it be okay.

That is, if Alya wasn’t furious with her for lying to her face for basically as long as she’d known her. She smiled apprehensively.

“Surprise?” she had to keep herself from biting her lip. “Please don’t be mad at me. You know I can’t… couldn’t…”

Alya was anything but mad. Her grin put the stars to shame. She sprinted forward and threw her arms around Marinette, almost knocking her off balance. When she pulled back, her eyes were shining. “So _that’s_ why… and I never even… Well, you’re a sneaky little lady, aren’t you?” Then she laughed, and the sound was water to Marinette’s parched, anxious heart. “This is so cool! I don’t know _how_ I never saw it, honestly. Of _course_ it’s you! I have so many _questions_ to ask you!”

“M-maybe not right now though? The bell…” she stammered, but it was a weak protest. She could feel herself smiling. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, Alya knowing. No more secrets, no more sneaking around behind the back of her best friend. And she could finally _talk_ about being a superhero to somebody, somebody she could trust absolutely with anything she had to say. Tikki was wonderful, but sometimes she just didn’t understand what it was like to be human. How could she? Alya on the other hand…

She just had to make sure that Alya understood how serious this was, and how important. Laughing about it was all well and good, but truthfully, this wasn’t a laughing matter.

“Before we go back to class, though, Alya,” Marinette said, lowering her voice to her ‘I’m-actually-serious-about-this’ register with difficultly and detaching herself from Alya’s encircling arms, “you have to understand, you can’t tell _anyone_ about what you just saw. It could put me in some serious trouble. I have to protect my identity if I want to stay safe. You can do that, right?”

Alya nodded eagerly. “Of course! You’re talking to the owner of the Ladyblog here, superhero aficionado. I’ve read enough superhero comics to know-” She stopped dead. The grin slid off her face like melting ice cream. “Oh no.”

Marinette felt her heart skip a beat. “Oh no? ‘Oh no’ what?”

Alya met Marinette’s gaze, her eyes wide with something dangerously close to fear. “Marinette, the video… my blog…”

Marinette’s heart was racing now. “No, Alya. It doesn’t matter how eager your followers are to know my identity, you _can’t tell them_.”

“No, no, no, I know, I know,” Alya’s voice was rising now, in pitch and in volume. “That’s not what I meant. I mean the _video_. The one I was recording.” She sped up now, words tripping over themselves on her tongue as she rushed to explain herself, “I was on my way back from the dentist and I saw the akuma and I thought, ‘well I’m going to miss this one,’ but I wasn’t quite sure and I haven’t uploaded anything in weeks because I’ve been so busy with that chem project, so I thought, ‘I know, I can just livestream the tail end of this battle, that’ll be fine-”

Marinette felt her stomach drop. “Livestream?” she breathed. She felt hollow.

Alya swallowed. “I didn’t catch much of the fight, but I saw Ladybug— _you_ —come into this alley afterwards, and I thought, ‘oh, hey, maybe I could get an interview, that would be cool-”

“Alya,” Marinette said, her voice measured, but shaking, “Please tell me you didn’t… that didn’t…” She glanced down at Alya’s phone, which was still lying on the concrete. “You didn’t catch that last bit. Did you?”

“I… might have?”

Marinette’s mind went blank. “No. No, no. You dropped your phone. It broke. Right? So the video… the upload…” she fumbled for words. How did these things work? She couldn’t seem to remember, even though she knew Alya had told her. “No one saw it, did they?”

Alya’s voice was trembling, “I-I mean, there weren’t _that_ many people watching… it is in the middle of the day, so-”

“How many, Alya,” Marinette interrupted. “Just… tell me how many.”

“Just… two,” Alya said, and Marinette breathed again. Two wasn’t that many. This could be contained. They’d just have to figure out who those people were, track them down somehow, and…

“…dozen.” Alya’s voice was small, as if saying it more quietly would make it less true.

“ _What?_ ” Marinette felt her stomach drop once more, deeper. Anxiety pulsed in her chest, beat after beat, faster, faster…

No. Deep breath. Now aloud. “No.”

“What?” Alya said, blinking tears from her eyes.

“No,” Marinette said, her voice stronger. “This will be fine. I can handle this. I can track them down and can talk to them…” She was pacing now, back and forth across the alley, trying to talk herself through it. “I can… It’ll be…”

Then she felt Alya’s arms around her again, and heard her voice in her ear. “We can. I’ll help. I’ll do everything I can.” She pulled back slightly, but didn’t let go of Marinette’s shoulders. “I am so sorry, Marinette.”

Marinette let out a deep sigh. “It’s alright. You... you didn’t know. It’s fine. And hey, it’s only twenty-four people, right? They might not even know who I am. Maybe nothing will happen.”

She wasn’t sure she believed herself, but she could see Alya relax.

“Right,” Alya said, straightening her shirt and turning to retrieve her phone. “This will be okay. Now, shall we get to class? We are running just a bit late.”

Marinette let out a short laugh. It was funny, really. She was so concerned about lateness five minutes ago, but now it was the least of her worries. Amazing what a little perspective will do.

Madame Bustier wasn’t as furious as Marinette expected her to be, and the rest of the day was blessedly uneventful. It gave Marinette plenty of time to fret over what she was going to do about that video. She must have asked Alya on half a dozen separate occasions if she was sure that the video was down, as if it could magically re-upload itself or something. But she seemed to be safe for the moment. No one in class said anything about the video, and Marinette wasn’t _that_ famous, was she? Even if these mysterious viewers knew her face, even if they had heard her name, they couldn’t do anything about it, could they? If they didn’t know her, they couldn’t find her. Simple as that.

But things were rarely simple for Marinette.

She had trouble putting the issue out of her mind that night. She had the strangest dreams. First, she was at school, but dressed as Ladybug. When Madame Busiter called her name for roll, she stuck her hand in the air with a shout of, “Present!” Everyone turned and looked at her, their eyes expanding in their sockets. She heard whispers.

“What?” they said. “That doesn’t make any sense. No, that’s not Marinette. No. No…”

She woke up, the echoes of their words still playing in her mind. She rolled over and tried again to sleep. This time, she was fighting an akuma when all of a sudden she looked down and saw her plain brown shoes and pink capris. She tried to throw her yo-yo, but found that her magical yo-yo had been replaced with a normal red one painted with shaky black spots. The air was dark with smoke or something. She couldn’t see. She called out for Chat, and he stepped out of the smoke, frowning.

“My lady?” he said. “You’re not my lady. Where is Ladybug?”

“I _am_ Ladybug!” she insisted, but her voice was swallowed up in the smoke. She tried again. “I said, I-”

“Am Ladybug!” She snapped awake as the words vibrated in her throat. Her heart was pounding. Sweat beaded on her forehead.

This was not working.

She gave up on sleep. Instead, she climbed out of her loft bed and settled down in front of her computer. If the internet was quiet about it, that would mean that everything was okay.

“Marinette?” Tikki’s voice came from Marinette’s pillow. “Marinette, what are you doing up? Is this about that video?”

Tikki had tried to calm Marinette down about this whole fiasco earlier that afternoon. She had said that there had been instances like this in the past and that though it was serious, the Ladybugs of history had always gotten through it, and she would too. Problem was, Marinette didn’t want to get _through_ the issue—she just wanted it not to exist.

“I just need to check something real quick,” she mumbled.

First, she went on the Ladyblog. The video wasn’t there, as she knew it wouldn’t be, but it felt good to see it anyway. Then she went to the livestreaming site that Alya used. She read over their FAQ again, and it once again assured her that the site didn’t save any of its users’ videos. It was against their privacy policy.

Last, she went to YouTube and plugged in one final search, composed of just two incriminating words: “Ladybug identity.”

The videos began to load. As usual, it was just a bunch of fan theories about who Ladybug might be, or what her backstory was. Completely normal.

She was about to breathe easy when she saw it—fourth down on the list. The title was in all caps.

_LADYBUG IDENTITY REVEALED??!?! THIS SHOCKING VIDEO SAYS IT ALL!_

Her heart froze. It had to be clickbait. Just clickbait. No one…

Then she saw the thumbnail and audibly gasped. She recognized that boy. She recognized the tiny pen clutched in his fist.

She clicked on the video, her fingers shaking. An add started to play. Her mind raced. It couldn’t be the same video, could it? Alya had taken it down. No one had saved it. Alya took it down five minutes after she put it up.

Then the video loaded. And Marinette saw.

It started out with the boy. She could hear Alya’s voice distinctly in the background, narrating events. Then, the alley. The pink light. Her name—“Marinette?” The view slipped as the phone fell from her friend’s lose hands and the video ended with a thunk. It cut to black. Then, white text appeared on the screen.

“Video creds to the Ladyblog. They may have taken the video down, but you lovely viewers deserve to know.”

Marinette swallowed, steeled herself, and looked down at the viewer bar.

Seventy-five thousand views.

_Seventy-five thousand._

And the video had only been up for six hours.

She couldn’t help herself. She screamed.

She heard rapid scrambling downstairs and moments later her parents burst through the trap door, panic written all over their faces.

“Marinette? Marinette, what’s wrong?”

She didn’t know how to respond. Her world was crashing down around her.

She burst into tears.


	2. Phone Calls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Adrien is both a concerned friend and a lovesick puppy. Also, things get worse.

The call had come at 4:47 am.

Adrien's phone buzzed by his face, shaking him out of a deep sleep.

“Hello?” he croaked into the receiver. “Who is this?”

It was Nino.

“Oh thank God you answered,” he said. “You gotta help me.”

 Adrien jolted to a sitting position, mind immediately going to the worst-case scenario. Was Nino hurt? Captured? Dead?

 _No, not dead, dead people can’t talk,_ he scolded himself. _Calm down_ , _Adrien._

“Nino?” he said, trying to sound collected though his heartbeat was pounding in his ears. “What’s going on?”

“It’s Alya, dude,” he said. “She’s freaking out.”

Oh. Just Alya.

Adrien flopped back onto his pillows, tension melting out of him. So Nino wasn’t hurt. Or captured. Good. Alya was freaking out? Alya always freaked out.

Then he saw the clock.

Alya always freaked out. But not at 4:47 am.

“Marinette just called her, like, twenty minutes ago,” Nino continued. “She says Mari was half-hysterical but now she’s gone all quiet and Alya can’t figure out what to do.”

Marinette? Suddenly a picture of his classmate’s face flashed in behind his eyes, vivid as a photograph, her smile bright and friendly. Had something happened to _her_? His heart began racing again.

“Nino, what’s going on? Is Marinette okay? What-”

“Oh, right, duh, you haven’t seen it yet,” Nino said, his voice heavy. “Man, sorry… I’m all mixed up…” Nino coughed messily. His cold really was terrible.

“Seen what? What’s going on?” Adrien felt fully awake now, and more panicked by the second. “Is she okay? Is she hurt?”

“Nah man, not hurt. Well, not yet?” Nino said. Adrien’s heart skipped another beat. “It’s just a video… well, it… man, how do I say this? It’s okay to tell you, right? I mean, Alya said she didn’t want this spreading around, but we’re buds, and you’re buds with Marinette, and you would find out anyway, and dude I just really need someone to talk to right now okay and I can’t talk to Alya because she’s freaking out and-”

“Nino,” Adrien said. Nino stopped talking. Adrien took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. “Just… tell me what happened.”

Nino exhaled. The sound crackled over the receiver. When he spoke, his voice was carefully measured.

“Dude…” he said. “Marinette is Ladybug.”

It took a moment for the words to hit. Then bottom dropped out of Adrien’s stomach and he felt as though the Earth had stopped moving but he hadn’t and now he was suddenly hurtling through space, free-floating, groundless.

“What?”

“Marinette,” Nino repeated. “Apparently she’s Ladybug.”

Adrien’s mouth was dry. Marinette was Ladybug? But… but he wasn’t… didn’t…

Then the ground came back and he hit it, hard.

It was supposed to be a secret.

He opened his mouth to tell Nino that he should have kept quiet, that Ladybug didn’t want it to be this way, that no one was supposed to know, _ever_ , but no words came out.

“Dude, you okay?” Nino said.

It took Adrien a moment. Finally, he managed to choke out a few words.

“Yeah. Fine.” He paused. “What… what happened?”

 

And Nino told him. He told him everything just as Alya had described it to him earlier, from the dentist to the alley to the livestream to the video that evening, albeit with a few more sniffles and coughs that Alya’s version probably had. Adrien listened in stunned silence.

When Nino finally finished, he sighed heavily. “I just don’t know what to do, man,” he said. “I want to help both of them, but… I mean, Alya just…” he paused a moment, searching for words. “She blames herself, you know? And she wouldn’t listen to me at all when I told her it wasn’t her fault.”

Adrien nodded, even though Nino couldn’t see him. That was Alya. Stubborn to the last.

“And Marinette… well, I don’t want to invade her space, you know?” Nino continued. “I feel like she needs support right now, but she won’t talk much, not even to Alya.”

Adrien felt a pang of sympathy. “She…” his voice caught so he coughed and tried again, “Well, she’s probably pretty shaken up…”

“Traumatized, by the sound of it,” Nino agreed. “But I don’t _get_ it, man,” Nino said. “I mean, the only people who’d be able to figure out it was her from the video are us, right? And like Mylene and Ivan and Kim and the rest of the class. And her parents. And… well, okay, there are a lot of people. But they’re all people she knows, you know? And they all care about her, and learning that she’s Ladybug just makes her that much more awesome.”

Adrien frowned. “But she never wanted her identity revealed,” he said adamantly. “To anyone.”

 “And I don’t get that either,” Nino said. “I mean-” Then a coughing fit attacked him, and Adrien had to wait patiently for it to pass. Finally, Nino recovered and continued, “I mean, I get keeping it pretty secret, ‘cause like you wouldn’t want Hawkmoth to find out, but secret from everyone?”

Adrien felt his stomach clench. He saw flashes of memories behind his eyes, all the times he had hinted, suggested, even flat out asked that they reveal themselves to each other. He remembered each in vivid detail, every expression that she had on her face when she turned him down. Sometimes, it was exasperation. Sometimes it was sympathy. And then there were those times when it was an honest, sad little smile, a knowledge of what was best for her and patience with him for not quite understanding.

She had never wanted her identity revealed. Not even to him.

“Look, I don’t get it either,” he said, and it was true. “But she didn’t want it to get out, and that’s that.”

“No, no, I get that. I respect that. But like, nothing bad will happen,” Nino said. “Right?”

Adrien paused. If Hawkmoth found out, what _would_ happen? Would he send akumas after Marinette? Would she be able to handle that? She was Ladybug after all. But still…

He shook his head. “No,” he said. “Nothing bad will happen.”

 

He hung up the phone at 5:38 but didn’t back to sleep. He lay on his bed staring at the ceiling. Now that he was alone with his thoughts, he couldn’t keep them from circling around and around the same sentence.

_Marinette is Ladybug._

_Marinette is Ladybug._

He tried to silence it. He shouldn’t have found out. She didn’t want him to know. But the longer he lay there, the louder the thought got until it was chorusing in his head, overlapping, urgent.

_Marinette is Ladybug_

_Marinette is Ladybug._

_Ladybug…_

_Ladybug…_

He shook his head violently to silence it. She hadn’t wanted this. And the more he thought about it, the more he realized that he hadn’t wanted it either. Not like this. He had pictured them revealing their identities to each other a million times over. It would be in a beautiful, romantic setting—maybe the Eifel Tower at midnight. That sounded nice. They would be holding hands. Then they would close their eyes and both release their transformations at the exact same moment, and then he’d see for the first time the eyes of that face under the mask and he would know who she was, though it wouldn’t really matter who it was because he had already decided that he was in love with her no matter who she turned out to be.

 

 _Wait_.

 

 _Oh_.

 

 _Oh_ , _oh_ , **_oh_**.

 

_Marinette was Ladybug._

**_Marinette_** _was_ **_Ladybug_**.

 

He sat up straight in his bed, nearly knocking Plagg, who was on the pillow next to him, onto the floor. The tiny kwami groaned in annoyance. Adrien looked over at him.

“Plagg,” he said because he needed to tell someone _right now_. “Plagg, I’m in love with Marinette.”

“Great. Good for you,” Plagg mumbled, snuggling back into the pillow. “Be sure to invite me to the wedding.”

But Adrien was already lost in thought, running through every memory he had of his kind, cheerful classmate. He saw every time she smiled, every time she laughed, every time she stuttered shyly when he tried to speak with her. He saw her talking with Alya, her face vibrant. He saw her comforting classmates, standing up to Chloe, helping to keep the class calm and safe every time an akuma attacked. He saw her peeking out from under the umbrella he had just given her and giggling in that adorable way of hers, that way that made him feel so welcome and so relieved and so…

Adrien stopped. He had already known that Ladybug was strong and brave and caring and confident and graceful and gorgeous. But now he also knew that she was adorable. And smart and talented and…

The longer the list grew in his head, the more he became convinced that he couldn’t put it off any longer—he would have to tell her. He would have to tell Ladybug, tell _Marinette_ , how he felt.

And suddenly that wasn’t so scary, because _he knew her_. He knew both sides of her, loved both sides of her, and… and maybe he actually had a chance.

He could tell her. About his feelings, and his identity. And maybe they could actually be together.

_They could be together._

Then reality hit him like an unwelcome whale. Now was not the time. Marinette was panicking. Her world was falling apart. He couldn’t swoop in and make everything better with a reveal and a confession—actually, that would probably make things even worse. What she really needed right now was support and understanding. He flopped back down on his pillows. Plagg grunted his disapproval, but Adrien didn’t hear him. He was busy staring at the ceiling again, thinking hard.

He would support, always, with everything he had. The only issue was _how_.

She was panicking because her identity had been revealed. Because she had lost control. But who could understand what that was like?

Who could understand, except another superhero?

Maybe revealing himself to her wouldn’t be such a bad thing. Maybe it would be exactly what she needed. Maybe she would open up to him in a way that she hadn’t opened up to Alya, or anyone. Maybe…

He caught himself. Was that just him being selfish? His heart squirmed in his chest. He ached to tell her, so much that it hurt. But how was he supposed to know if it was what she needed?

He needed more info. Info about Marinette, about how she was doing. Then he’d be able to tell if it was a good idea or not.

He looked at the clock. 6:56 am.

Alya should still be awake, right?

He climbed over to his couch, tucked his feet underneath him, and dialed her number. The phone rang twice before she picked up.

“Adrien?” she said. Her voice was tired and vaguely confused.

“Uh, hey Alya,” he said, subconsciously raising a hand to scratch the back of his neck. “Um, so…”

But Alya cut him off. “This is about Marinette, isn’t it?” she said. “Nino told you?”

“Uhh…”

“Don’t worry, it’s fine, I should have guessed.” She half-said the words, half sighed them.

There was an awkward silence while Adrien tried to figure out if Alya was going to say anything more, or if he should speak. Finally, the tension was too much for him, and he blurted out, “Well, is she okay? Marinette?”

There was a short pause. “Well, I mean, sort of,” Alya said. “How okay can you be when your biggest secret is suddenly all over the internet thanks to your idiot best friend?”

“Oh come on Alya, don’t say that…”

“Oh what, because it’s true?” Alya snapped. “Adrien, I know what I did. It’s fine. I can take the blame.”

“Alya, it isn’t _your fault_ ,” he insisted. “It was an accident. Marinette must know that. Did she seem mad at you?” If Adrien knew anything about Marinette, about Ladybug, it was that she sometimes got a bit hot-headed, but when it came down to it, she was rational, and, more importantly, she was kind. She cared about her friends, and wouldn’t blame Alya if it wasn’t her fault.

“No,” Alya muttered.

“There you go,” Adrien said, but Alya wasn’t finished.

“Actually, to be honest, she seemed more mad at herself.” Her voice was quieter now, the biting edge completely gone. “I tried to convince her that it was my fault, but she wouldn’t have any of it. She kept saying it was _her_ fault for transforming where she did, for not paying better attention…”

Adrien felt his heart pulse with sympathy again. “But it’s not her fault.”

“I know.”

“And it’s not your fault either.”

Alya snorted. “Sure.”

Stubborn to the end. He wanted to argue with her more, but he didn’t have the energy for it.

He needed to know about Marinette. So instead he said, “So, she’s mad at herself for letting this happen. But is she okay otherwise?”

“Well, I mean-” Alya started, then stopped. When she spoke again, her voice was short, breathy even. “Adrien, turn on your TV right now.”

“What?” Adrien said, though he was already reaching for the remote. “Why-”

But then he stopped too because on his TV was the 7:00 news with an unfamiliar reporter and a glaring headline running across the bottom of the screen.

            _Ladybug unmasked? New viral video reveals identity of Paris’ mysterious super hero!_

The upper right corner of the screen showed a picture of Ladybug from a recent news story. The reporter jabbered away.

“And so Ladybug turns out to be none other than Paris’ own Marinette Dupain-Cheng, a student at Collège Françoise Dupont and daughter of bakery owners Tom and Sabine Dupain-Cheng,” he said, sounding smug. The image flipped, and suddenly it was Marinette’s school photo, clear as day. “This is, to say the least, a startling turn of events, raising many valid questions. Is a middle schooler really fit to protect the town? What do her parents think of her dangerous masquerade? We have reporters live at the scene to find the answers now.”

Then the screen cut to a scene outside the Dupain-Cheng bakery, with reporters clamoring at all the available entrances. Marinette’s father was fending them off, keeping them from overwhelming the premises. Sabine was shouting in a high yet authoritative voice that they would not be answering any questions and wouldn’t they all just leave them in peace and quiet please?

Adrien turned off the TV. His phone was still held rigidly next to his ear. For a moment, Alya was silent. Then there was a rustling sound, like she had just slumped into a chair.

“Oh my God… Marinette…” she breathed. Then she swallowed. “How did they know, though? They couldn’t just find out…”

But Adrien had no answer. His thoughts were racing. He needed to talk to Marinette. He needed to stand by her. He needed to help her in any way he could.

His voice trembled when he finally spoke. “Alya, I’m gonna go visit her,” he said. “Do… do you think that would help?”

“I don’t know Adrien, I just don’t know,” she said. “I don’t know how to help her anymore…” Her voice cracked. She sniffed, then took a deep breath and continued. “She wouldn’t talk to me much before anyway, and I doubt she’d talk to me now. It was like she was trying to do this all on her own. She kept saying, I’ll be fine. This will be fine. But now she won’t be fine and she won’t talk to me and I don’t know how to help her and-”

Then Alya was crying and Adrien had absolutely no idea what to do.

He tried to soothe her. “Alya, I’ll go talk to her,” he said. “Maybe I can get her to open up a bit.” If anyone could, it would be him, right? He was the only one who would understand what it was like. The only one with an identity that he kept locked up tight as well. If she knew that, then maybe she wouldn’t try to do everything on her own.

Alya didn’t say anything. Adrien took that as his cue to hang up. But as soon as he pressed the end call button, he punched in Nino’s number.

“Dude, what’s up?” Nino said. His cold sounded even worse, if that was possible.

“You might want to go visit Alya,” he said, and without further explanation, he hung up.

He went over to his bed. Plagg was still snuggled down onto the pillow. Adrien poked him with a finger and he spun lazily into the air, yawning. When he caught sight of Adrien’s face, however, he snapped his mouth shut and frowned.

“What’s with all that determination?” he said.

Adrien smiled. His heart was in his throat again.

“We’ve got work to do, buddy,” he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaah there are so many emotions to deal with in this piece why does everyone have emotionsssssss  
> Thanks for reading! :)


	3. Let Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Marinette hears some bad news, and receives an unexpected (but come on it was totally expected) visitor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha goodness it's been a while! Things have been a bit crazy with school and things lately, you understand. I do plan to keep working on this when I can though, so don't think I've abandoned it! I have plans :)  
> (Also my roommate probably won't let me _not_ finish it, now that she's started reading it :P)

Marinette woke up without her alarm. Six fifty-five on a Saturday. She groaned and rolled over, whishing she could fall asleep again and knowing that she wouldn’t be able to, even though she had barely slept all night. Her mind simply wouldn’t let her, and anyway, there was some sort of commotion happening outside that was making an awful lot of unpleasant noise.

Her phone lay on her pillow, right next to her head. She pulled it up to her face. Her tabs were still open from 5am that morning, when she had finally fallen asleep scrolling through the news. It was obsessive and unhealthy and she knew it, but she couldn’t help herself. This was her life, and it was all in the open now. She had to keep track of it.

Since the video had gone up, there had been a few minor articles referencing it, but for the most part it hadn’t broken out into the “real world.” She told herself that this was a good thing, that it meant that not much would change, but she struggled to believe herself. The world may not know, but her classmates would know. The very thought of it made her stomach tight. She hadn’t wanted them to know. She hadn’t wanted any of this. If she had just moved a little farther away, waited to detransform another _five seconds_ …

 She shook her head and kept scrolling through the pages. They were useless thoughts. Pointless thoughts. It was her fault that Alya had seen her. Her fault, and her responsibility to face the consequences.

 _Just deal with it,_ she thought firmly.

She had been telling herself that since three in the morning. It wasn’t sinking in very well.  

It was 7:00 now. Morning news time. She debated with herself for a moment whether or not she should find the livestream—that would be just a bit too paranoid and obsessive, wouldn’t it? But in the end she decided she may as well settle her nerves and opened up the page.

“And so Ladybug turns out to be none other than Paris’ own Marinette Dupain-Cheng, a student at Collège Françoise Dupont and-”

The world froze. There was no blood in her face, no air in her lungs. She flung the phone away. It landed at the foot of her bed, almost sliding off to the floor where it inevitably would have shattered, but thankfully, hatefully, it stayed in place. She could still hear bits of what it was saying.

“Valid questions… Is a middle schooler really fit…”

She lunged forward, grabbed it, and held down the power button until the screen went dark. Silence fell.

Tikki flew out from behind Marinette’s pillow, her antenna flat against her head.  “Marinette…”

Marinette said nothing. She didn’t even look over. Her hands were wrapped tightly around her phone, trembling.

“Marinette,” Tikki repeated, flying right up to Marinette’s face. “Don’t listen to them. You were chosen for a reason. Don’t forget that.”

Marinette took a shuddering breath. “I know, Tikki, it’s just…”

She had something she was going to say, but it was slipping out of her grasp. In her mind, a single track was playing on repeat, getting louder and louder with each iteration. _They know, they know_ , it said, _they know, they know, the world knows…_

She should have expected it to be like this. She had made a mistake. She shouldn’t have expected to avoid all the consequences. She just hadn’t wanted there to be so _many…_

_Suck it up, Marinette. Deal with it. It will be okay…_

It was not going to be okay.

They were right. She couldn’t handle this. She could never handle this. Now everyone knew that she was faking it the whole time, she was just Marinette, and the would never respect her again, and she’d never be able to help them and Hawkmoth would know now and Chat would be in danger…

The scenarios began to play in her head like old films. Classmates suddenly skeptical and distant, Akumatized people laughing at her, Hawkmoth chuckling evilly as he plotted what to do with this new information. And then there was Chat, who always looked at her with admiration, even wonder, looking at her with his chin held high and disappointment twisting his usual smirking grin.

 _Oh._ He would say. _Oh, it’s just_ you.

She buried her face in her pillow. Stupid cat. Stupid class. Stupid Hawkmoth, stupid world! Couldn’t they just leave her alone? Just go away and forget about her dumb mistakes and her bad days and…

Her thoughts were interrupted by a tapping on her trapdoor. She snapped her head up to look at the glass.

It was Chat.

For a second, she considered not letting him in. He could keep all his judgement on the other side of the trapdoor, thank you very much. Then she chided herself for being silly and for assuming she’d know what he’d think, for wanting to ignore him and her problems. _Suck it_ up _Marinette,_ she told herself. _Get over it. Face your problems._ She opened the door.

He didn’t say anything immediately, for which she was grateful. Instead, he jumped down and landed lightly on her bed. Marinette sat down cross-legged and took a deep breath. When he saw, he mimicked her so that they were both sitting cross-legged on the bed, facing each other as if this were some sort of strange interview.

“Hello Chat,” she said, voice perhaps a bit hard, a bit formal, but at least controlled.

“Hello… m’lady.” He smiled uncertainly at her.

Her spine prickled at the words, so typical in costume and so out of place in the now. But there was no loathing, no disappointment in his voice. She tried to relax a bit.

“So… you heard?” she said. “The news report did it, right?”

He hesitated a moment before nodding. “Right. Yeah. The news.” His eyes were trained on Tikki, who was hovering just over Marinette’s shoulder. Marinette noticed and smiled slightly, glancing over.

“Oh, this is my kwami,” she said. “Tikki.”

Chat nodded to her, and Tikki nodded back. Silence fell.  Then Chat spoke again.

“Are… are you doing okay?”

The words stirred up something dangerous and painful in her chest, but she managed to push it down with a sigh. “I… I’m fine, Chat.”

Silence again. Chat frowned at her. She looked away.

“Look,” she said, eyes still down. “I’m sorry about all this. It was my fault, all my stu-” her voice caught in her throat. She swallowed. _Force it down._ “It was a stupid mistake, and now we’re all in greater danger because of it. I’m sorry. And I understand if you don’t… if you don’t respect me anymore, but-”

“No!” Chat’s vehemence surprised her. She looked up at him and saw that his eyes were fixed on her, a mixture of softness and something strange she didn’t quite understand. “Of course not, Marinette.”

She stiffened. How could he switch between her names so casually? But he continued.

“Of course I still respect you. Everyone will still respect you. And the danger won’t be a problem, we can deal with it together-” He stopped talking when he saw her shaking her head. He frowned. “What?”

“Didn’t you hear what the reporter said?” she said. “I’m not really a hero Chat. I’m just a middle schooler playing at being a hero, I always have been, and now everyone knows…”

“Hey, _hey_ ,” Chat said, leaning forward and putting his hands on her shoulders. “That’s not true. You _are_ a hero, in and out of costume. Trust me.”

Tikki nudged Marinette’s neck, and she couldn’t help but smile a little. Then she heard the reporter’s voice again in her head and her smile slipped.

“I appreciate the thought, Chat,” she said quietly. “And I know that’s what _you_ think. But it’s not what _they_ think. My class, the world... I can’t…”

Her throat tightened and she had to stop talking. There was a clamor building in her head— _I can’t, I can’t,_ drowned out by, _you have to, you have to. Suck it up and face your problems, stupid. Weakling._

“Marinette? _Marinette!_ ” Chat was calling her name, though she didn’t notice until he squeezed her shoulders. She looked up at him, eyes watering.  
“ _I understand_ , Marinette.”

She sniffed. “No, you can’t-”

He shook his head. “But I _do_. You never wanted this to happen and now it has, and now you’re worried about what everyone will think and you feel like everything’s out of control and you just want things to go back to the way they were. Right?”

She hesitated for a second, then nodded. His hands relaxed, and he let them fall off of her shoulders.

“I know they can’t ever go back to being how they were,” he continued. “But… but at the very least, I can stand by you and help you. I’m your _partner_ after all. It’s what I do.”

She looked up at him, at the softness in his face, and felt the dangerous thing in her chest squirm. She sniffed.

“But…” she said, “but I still need to face my classmates and the people and everyone...”

“And they’ll still love you.”

“But what if they _don’t?_ ”

“Then I’ll still be here,” Chat said, smiling gently. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

Marinette frowned. “You can’t come with me, Chat.”

“Why not?”

“Because you can’t be Chat Noir all the time!” she said. _What was he playing at?_ “You have your own life, I can’t take that away from you.”

Chat bit his lip. “Well…” he said. He looked like he was thinking about something hard, hesitant but eager at the same time. He cleared his throat. “Well. You’re right. But I don’t _have_ to be Chat Noir all the time, m’lady.”

It took her a second to process. Then hear heart skipped a beat.

“Wait…” she said, her voice soft.

“You don’t know who I am,” he said, “but if you did, you’d know that I can be with you, that I-”

“ _NO!_ ”

She hadn’t meant to shout. The word just tore its way out of her throat, full force. Chat sank back, ears flat against his head, but she didn’t back down.

“I don’t want to drag you into this, Chat,” she said. “Don’t tell me.”

“But Mari… my lady…”

“No! I won’t let you!” she shouted. “You can’t reveal your identity just because _I_ messed up so badly!” The thing in her chest squirmed. She forced it down and looked Chat straight in the eye. “It’s too important!”

“But I _want_ to!” he said, his voice rising to match hers. “You don’t have to do this alone-”

“Why aren’t you _listening_ to me?!” she said, hitting the mattress with her fists. “It’s my mistake, and I have to face the consequences! You can’t help me, Chat!”

The thing in her chest roared. She inhaled sharply.

“Yes, I can!” he said. “You just aren’t letting me! This isn’t your fault! _Let people help you,_ Marinette!”

_Deal with it, deal with it…_

“No!” she said. “No, I _can’t!_ ”

“ _Why!?_ ”

“Because… because…” Her thoughts were spinning flying in circles, chaotic, impossible to pin down. “Because it’s my fault!” she said. Had she said that already? “I need to take care of this! I have to be the one to take care of this!”

“ _No_ , you don’t!” he yelled.

 _“Stop telling me that!”_ She was practically screaming now. “Stop encouraging me! I’m just… I just…”  The thing in her chest seethed, straining its bonds. _Deal with it, deal with it._ “I’m _stupid_ and I’m _weak_ and I have to learn to accept the consequences when I mess up. So just _let me deal with this, Chat!_ ”

The echoes of her voice faded into silence. Chat was looking at her strangely. She didn’t like it.

“Oh… oh, Marinette.”

The softness of his voice finally did it. The thing in her chest melted free and she broke down into tears, sobbing into her hands. _No, no…_ said the voice in her head. _Deal with it, deal—_ but then she felt arms wrap around her shoulders and pull her in tight and the voice quieted. Chat held her close, rocking her gently from side to side.

“You don’t have to punish yourself for this,” he said. She could feel his voice rumbling in his chest. “Even if it was your fault, which I will personally never believe it was. No one’s asking you to handle it alone.” He pulled back a bit and pressed his forehead to hers, looking her straight in the eye. “We all _want_ to help you. Do you believe me?”

She sniffed and met his gaze. His eyes were wide, honest, comforting. Familiar. Her partner’s eyes. The eyes of the person who had sacrificed himself so many times so that she would be safe, so that she could be her strongest. The emotion she saw there was the familiar too, the same that she had seen in the eyes of her parents when she had told them her secret and in the eyes of Alya when she had figured it out—unconditional support. _Love_ , even. She swallowed.

“I mean… I _guess…_ ” she said.

He laughed a little, quietly. “You guess?”

She smiled a watery little smile. “Fine. I believe you.”

A small smile crept onto his face. “Good,” he said. “Because you aren’t alone, Marinette. And we can deal with this, together.”

She smiled. Chuckled. Then they were laughing together, holding each other, just two kids in the middle of a situation that was bigger than both of them, but no match for the pair.

_It was going to be okay._

Their laugher died down eventually. A comfortable silence settled. Then all at once they both realized how close they were—foreheads still pressed together, noses almost brushing each other, lips mere inches apart—and they flung themselves backwards, blushing horribly and avoiding each other’s eyes. Chat raised a hand as if to apologize—the hand with the ring on it—and suddenly Marinette knew what she needed to do.

With hands that were shaking only the barest amount, she reached out and took his hand in her own. His blush deepened, but he did not pull away.

“Marinette?” he said uncertainly.

She looked up into his eyes and smiled a small smile. He returned it, though his eyebrows were furrowed quizzically. She brought his hand close to her. The paw on the ring glowed brightly, all five segments illuminated.

 “You were right, Chat,” she said, eyes never leaving his. “We can deal with this together.”

And then suddenly comprehension dawned and Chat gave a small gasp. His eyes flicked down to his ring, then back to her face. There was a new emotion there now—a mixture of anticipation and wonderment. She drank it in, letting it give her the confidence she needed.

Then she took a deep breath, closed her eyes and in one smooth motion, pulled the ring off of his finger.

Green light flashed beyond her closed lids. In her hand she felt cool leather become soft skin, tingling with the last dregs of magic. She laced her fingers between his, squeezing to steady herself.

She opened her eyes.

There in front of her, sitting on her bed with a nervous, excited, _dazzling_ smile, was Adrien Agreste.


	4. Realizations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Marinette comes to a conclusion, and much fluff ensues

Marinette was utterly frozen in place. All thoughts about the reporter, the crowds, the general crisis at hand disappeared, replaced by a single, overwhelming reality. Somehow, a few syllables made it through her vocal chords and out of her open mouth.

“Adrien?” she said.

Adrien smiled uncertainly, raising a hand to rub the back of his neck like he always did when he was nervous.

“Surprise?” he said. “Um…”

“ _Adrien?”_

It seemed to be the only word she was capable of. Her mind felt divorced from her mouth, racing to process what she now knew.

Adrien was Chat Noir.

She tried to fit the pieces together, tried to imagine Adrien in the moments before where he had been Chat, when he had told her that he would always be there for her when he had hugged her…

She felt a deep blush rising to her cheeks. A squeal fought to escape her lips, but she held it back.

 _Don’t freak out, Marinette, don’t freak out…_ she told herself. _He’s just Chat Noir. Just your partner._

And the thing was, he _was_ Chat Noir. Everything was gradually falling into place, pieces in a perfect game of Tetris. She could see it. She could see it in his finger guns, his brilliant smile, his occasional and seemingly out-of-character pun that no longer seemed quite so out-of-character. She could see it in the way he defended his classmates whenever there was danger, the way he always put others first, just like he always put Ladybug first. The boy she had been pining over had been next to her the whole time. The person she had idolized, who had seemed so distant and infallible, was actually one of her closest friends.

Who was sitting across from her right now.

Holding her hand. 

He was also looking at her with a somewhat concerned expression, as if wondering if he had hurt her.

“Marinette, are you okay?” he said, holding tightly as if afraid she might try to run away. “You’re not… I mean, I’m… uh…”

Marinette shook her head and smiled. “No, I’m fine, A-adrien,” she said. “I guess I just wasn’t expecting…”

But why on earth _hadn’t_ she been? She couldn’t imagine it any other way anymore. It made perfect sense. Adrien was selfless and kind and cared deeply about others. Adrien was Chat Noir.

And Chat Noir was Adrien.

She blinked.

Chat Noir. Was Adrien.

Chat Noir, who had flirted with her _non-stop_ since the day he had met her as Ladybug, was _Adrien Agreste_.

“Wasn’t expecting what?” Adrien prompted her, but Marinette didn’t hear him. She busy running through all the moments Chat Noir had winked at her, tried to kiss her hand, tried to tell her they were “made for each other.” It was almost too much to process. She felt giddy. He _liked_ her _._ He actually, truly _liked_ her _._

And, oh my goodness, she had _kissed_ him. Though she supposed he didn’t remember it at all, so maybe that didn’t count. But there had been other times too, other times when his face had gotten so dangerously close to hers and she could feel that he had _wanted_ to kiss her, and was only waiting for her word, for his lady’s permission…

 _His lady’s_. That’s right. He hadn’t been flirting with _her._ He had been flirting with Ladybug. She felt her smile falter. Would he still want Marinette?

That moment of doubt was silenced with one half-second’s thought about the boy in front of her, the boy who had rushed to her house ready to reveal everything just to make her feel loved, who repeated to her that she wasn’t alone, that it wasn’t her fault, that he would support her whatever the situation. Yes, she thought, he would probably still want Marinette.

And did _she_ want _him_? Did she want Chat?

Her heartrate picked up even at the thought of it. The question burned with possibility. Chat wanted her, she knew. So if she wanted Chat…

She had been crushing on Adrien since he had, in a moment of utter kindness, proved to her that he was his own person, a beautiful, generous person, and not just a product of the cold, wealth-infused world he was brought up in. She still had the umbrella from that moment, a symbol for her of the unreachable boy with the soft smile and honest, infectious laugh. But while she had been crushing on Adrien, she had been getting to know Chat, his free spirit, light-hearted when he could be, serious when he needed to be, always supportive and funny and _fun_. He was Adrien freed from all expectations, free to be himself fully and not just in part. Did she want all of him? Bad puns and all?

Yes, she decided. Yes she did.

And with her mind settled, the world around her came into focus once more.

“Marinette, please talk to me!” Adrien was saying, looking really concerned now. “What is it? Do you hate it? Do you hate that it’s me?”

The absurdity of that suggestion struck Marinette as very funny for some reason. She started to laugh. Then she glanced up and saw Adrien’s face—bemusement, confusion, fear.

“N-no!” she hurried to assure him, willing the laughter out of her voice and only partially succeeding. “No, of course not. I don’t think I could have hated it, whoever you turned out to be, and especially not now that it’s _you…_ ” she let her voice trail off, blushing only slightly.

“Oh,” Adrien said, frowning, “So… you’re okay with it?”

Marinette nodded vigorously. “Definitely okay with it.”

“And… and you’ll let me help you out at school and stuff?” he added cautiously. “I mean, you have Alya too, but you know that I’m there to support you too, right?”

She sobered a bit at the reminder of her predicament, but her smile didn’t fade. He was right. He would be there.

“Of course, Adrien,” she said softly, giving his hand a squeeze.

Adrien smiled, and he looked so wonderfully relieved that Marinette felt herself melt a bit on the inside. Then he blushed rather unexpectedly and raised his free hand to his neck, rubbing it self-consciously.

“Um… this may be an absolutely terrible time to bring this up, but…” His voice trailed off, like he was losing confidence in what he was about to say. “Well, I feel like I’ve been putting it off for a really long time and I’d like to just get it out in the open. Which I guess is a bit selfish, but I dunno. Would that be okay?”

Marinette felt her heart beat a bit faster, but she smiled and tried to stay calm. “How can I say if it’s okay if you haven’t told me what it is yet?”

“Right, right,” he laughed nervously. “Well, it, um. It has to do with you…”

“Mhmm,” Marinette hummed, feeling her cheeks get warmer. She tried to picture him as Chat again to give her a bit of confidence. She knew Chat. She knew Adrien.

She also had a sneaking feeling that she knew what he was going to say, and she really, _really_ wanted to hear him say it.

“It’s just… umm…” Adrien was looking everywhere but at her, at the ceiling, the wall, the giant stuffed cat pillow on the bed beside him. He seemed to be trying to find words there, but there were none. Finally, he gave up and looked her in the eye. “Well, it’s like this. When I first met you, you know, as Ladybug, you completely knocked me off my feet.”

“A pun? Really?” Marinette snorted, though she was blushing.

Adrien smiled a bit. “But of course,” he said. “I am Chat Noir, pun master, after all.”

“Pun _disaster,_ ” Marinette corrected.

Adrien grinned. “Touché, m’lady,” he said. Then his face grew more serious. “But, all puns aside, I sort of made a promise to myself after I watched you deal with that first akuma…”

“You mean, completely _fail_ at dealing with the first akuma,” Marinette frowned. The memory was still not a pleasant one.

“No, no,” Adrien said, waving his free hand. “Not fail at all. You were new on the job, that’s all. Once you got back into the game, you… well… You were awesome. Totally awesome.”

Marinette was definitely blushing now. She knew she had heard the phrase from Chat before, but she hadn’t known he’d really meant it. Now she heard it with new ears. He _did_ mean it. She could see it in his eyes.

“Anyway,” he continued, blushing harder now. “I made myself a promise on that day. I promised that whoever was underneath that mask… well, _your_ mask…” he swallowed. Paused.

“What?” Marinette prompted, heart in her throat.

“I said, ‘Whoever she is…’” he hesitated again, not meeting her eyes. Then he looked up, face bright red, but smiling. “‘Whoever she is beneath that mask, I love that girl.’ And it’s true.” He held her gaze for a moment, then snapped it away once more, rubbing the back of his neck. “T-that’s all. I j-just wanted you to know, you don’t have to do anything about it, I just…”

Marinette wasn’t really thinking very clearly. All she knew was that the boy of her dreams and possibly her best friend had just told her that he loved her, all of her, Ladybug _and_ Marinette. The one-sided prison she had thought she was trapped in had been an illusion all along. She leaned forward, closed her eyes, and pressed her lips to his.

He felt surprised at first, but then he relaxed and leaned forward, wrapping his hand around her neck. It was just like she had always pictured in her dreams, only better because this wasn’t kissing some idolized stranger, this was kissing her partner and her friend. It was perfect.

Then she felt something fall from her hand. She half-wanted to ignore it, but something told her she shouldn’t, so she leaned back and looked around. Finally, she spotted it, sitting lightly on top of her covers: Chat Noir’s ring.

Memories of the conversation that they had just had flooded back into her mind. Her smile faltered. She picked up the ring and held it out to Adrien, who was looking at her quizzically.

“Here,” she said, dropping the ring into his palm. “You’ll be wanting this back.”

He looked startled for a second, as if he had forgotten that he wasn’t wearing it anymore, then scrambled to put it back on. Marinette realized that that was quite possibly the longest he had gone without wearing it since they had gotten them.

As soon as he slid it on, a small black thing materialized in the air in front of him. It groaned.

“Are you done being all gross and romantic now?” it said in a whiny, nasaly voice.

Adrien frowned at it. “Plagg, don’t be rude.”

 _Plagg_? Marinette looked at it curiously. It had two tiny ears on a giant head, brilliant but narrowed green eyes, a cat-like tail, and… were those toe beans?

She couldn’t help herself. Melancholy temporarily forgotten, she grabbed one of the feet and began to inspect it.

There _were_ toe beans. _So cute_ …

“Woah, hey, nice to meet you too,” it said, trying and failing to pull its foot away. Marinette took pity on it and let it go.

“Marinette, this is Plagg,” Adrien said. “My kwami. Though you probably figured that out already.”

Marinette opened her mouth to say something, maybe to apologize for grabbing its foot (though she hardly regretted it at all, it was just _too cute_ ), but she was interrupted by an absurdly high-pitched squealing noise coming from behind a pillow somewhere. Out zoomed a bright red blur that collided with Plagg, sending both of them spinning almost to the edge of the bed, which would have mattered if they couldn’t fly.

“Plagg!” said the blur, which was, in fact, Tikki, who had apparently been hiding to give Marinette and Adrien space to talk. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen you! How _are_ you?”

“Feeling rather bruised at the moment,” Plagg muttered, but he couldn’t hide his smile. “Good to see you, Sweet Tooth.”

 _Sweet Tooth_? Marinette mused. Apparently they knew each other well. Well, she supposed when you were around for millennia, you learned a bit about each other. Then a thought struck her.

“How long has it been since the two of you have seen each other?” she asked. They both thought for a moment.

“Probably about… I don’t know… fifty years? Seventy?” Tikki replied. “They all sort of blur together, don’t they Plagg?”

“Eh.” Plagg shrugged. “That sounds about right. The last Ladybug and Chat Noir never revealed their identities, whiiiiiich was kind of annoying, but hey. Now you two can finally get over your dramatic irony and pining phase! Congratulations!”

Marinette blinked.

Adrien voiced what she was thinking. “You knew the whole time?” he said, almost whispering. “And you didn’t say _anything_?”

Plagg shrugged again. “Guess I just like to watch the world burn.”

Tikki shoved him lightly with one of her flippers. “We wanted to respect your wishes, Adrien,” she explained. “The two of you had agreed to keep your identities secret, and we weren’t about to force you into everything. And besides, we knew everything would work out in its proper time…”

“ _You_ knew,” Plagg interrupted, and Tikki shot him a look.

“Fine, _I_ knew,” she said, then turned to Adrien. “Plagg wanted to tell you, but I urged him not to. It never ends well when we get involved like that. Sometimes, it’s hard for us to be patient, but it’s for the best. I mean, look at you two! Everything _did_ work out in the end.” She smiled to herself. Then she turned towards Marinette. “And all this identity stuff, that will work out too. You’ll see.”

And for once, Marinette believed her. She smiled.

“I know,” she said. “After all, with Chat supporting me, what could go wrong?”

“Only _everything_ ,” Plagg rolled his eyes. “That boy is a mess.”

Adrien grinned. “Love you too, Plagg.”

Marinette opened her mouth to say something, though she wasn’t quite sure what, she just wanted to contribute somehow to the warmth in the atmosphere that she was feeling in such abundance. But just as she was about to speak, there came a call from downstairs.

“Marinette!” It was her mother, shouting in that careful shout that mothers use with shaken daughters. “Some of your friends are here. Shall I let them in?”

Marinette frowned. “But Alya said she'd text..." Then her eyes found her phone, which was sitting next to her on the bed, decidedly off. She powered it on, and sure enough, there was a text from Alya. She didn't wait for it to load, just slipped the phone in her back pocket and turned back to Adrien. "Well, I guess that must be Alya and Nino, then. Shall we go say hello?”

“You go,” said Adrien. “Your parents don’t _exactly_ know I’m here…”

Marinette opened her mouth, closed it again. That’s right. Chat had come in through the balcony.

“Right,” she said. “I’ll go get them then. And do you want me to keep them downstairs, or…?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Adrien assured her, pulling something that looked and smelled suspiciously like cheese out of his shirt pocket. “I’ll just feed Plagg really quickly, then jump out of here and come around to the door. As Adrien.”

Marinette nodded and turned to Tikki. "And you can hide here?" she asked.

"Of course, Marinette! Until you need me," she said.

Marinette smiled warmly and turned to climb out of the lofted bed when she felt Adrien’s hand on her shoulder. She turned and found his face inches from hers. He closed his eyes and planted a quick kiss on her lips.

“Just want to make a habit of that,” he grinned, his cheeks red.

Marinette flushed and pushed him away, though she, too, was smiling. “Silly kitty,” she said, turning once more. “I’ll see you in a minute.”

She made her way down the ladder, down the trap door, down the stairs. Sure enough, there were Alya and Nino, standing with her mother, looking tired and drawn. Alya noticed Marinette first and threw her arms around her.

“Girl, are you okay?” she said. “I am so, so, _so_ sorry, I can’t believe…”

Marinette hugged her back tightly. “It’s okay, it’s not your fault. It… it will work out. I’m sure it will.”

Alya pulled back, looking her in the eyes. “Yeah. Yeah, it will. You know we’re all here for you, right?” Behind her, Nino nodded emphatically.

Marinette smiled at fond memories. “Yeah. I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a bit tricky to write because it's a scene that happens in almost every Miraculous fic out there, and I wanted it to not feel too cliched (or at least, if it was cliche, to have the cliches flow nicely). Hopefully I'll be able to get the next chapter out a bit faster, though I can't make any promises because I'm currently balancing writing this with editing two essays and a short story for school. (Yaaay English major!)  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it! :)  
> Edit: tweaked a bit for continuity's sake!


	5. Friendly Investigation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Alya and Nino learn some things. Also, it's Marinette's turn to get a phone call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: Toby'c pointed out some continuity issues (aka Marinette's phone was still off and in her bed), so I tweaked chapter 4 just a bit to make everything make sense!  
> Haha I should really get a beta reader...

Sabine watched, smiling, as Marinette embraced her friends. After a moment, she spoke. “I’ll go into the kitchen and grab some snacks, shall I?” she said. “Do you want me to bring them up to your room, Marinette?”

Marinette, Alya, and Nino agreed enthusiastically that that would be amazing. Then, finding there was nothing else left to be said, they turned and began climbing the stairs. Marinette led the way with Alya and Nino following close behind. Marinette wondered for a moment if Adrien had had enough time to transform, but how long did he need, really? A minute or so would be plenty of time. 

She pushed open the trap door slowly, just enough to see the loft bed. It was empty. Good. She opened the door all the way and stepped into her room. 

That was when she noticed Adrien, not sitting on the bed, but standing by her computer monitor and staring at her desktop. A desktop which was still, Marinette realized, a collage of his modeling shots. They had just enough time to share a stunned look before Alya poked her head through the trap door. 

“I see you came to visit like you said you would,” Alya said as she climbed through the door. “Good for you.”

Adrien laughed, a bit nervously, shifting to avoid Marinette’s eyes. Marinette continued to stare at him incredulously. Why was he not gone?

Nino followed Alya, looking similarly pleased at the sight of Adrien. “Dude! Alya said you might be here. Good to see you.”  

“You too,” Adrien said, latching on to the excuse not to look at Marinette. “You feeling better?”

“A bit,” Nino shrugged. “Still stuffy, though. It’s super annoying. Not cool.”

“Hey Nino,” Marinette cut in, still staring at Adrien. “Do you think you could go help my mom with the snacks? She could probably use a hand—she always brings up so much. And Alya—you too?”

The pair looked at each other, frowning. Then Alya shrugged, gave Marinette a you’re-going-to-tell-me-what-this-is-about-later sort of look, and ushered Nino towards the trap door. It closed behind them with a snap, leaving Adrien staring sheepishly at the floor. Marinette rounded on him. 

“Why on earth are you still here?” she hissed, keeping her voice low in case Alya and Nino were listening at the trap door. Well, Nino probably wouldn’t be, but Alya maybe. 

“Okay. Well. Here’s the thing,” Adrien said, still not looking at her. “I was going to leave right away. I really was. But then…” he trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Then lover boy here saw your desktop and decided it was a good time to review his modeling career through some fancy pink hearts,” Plagg said, zooming out of Adrien’s shirt pocket. He had one of the most mischievous grins Marinette had ever seen. “Isn’t that right, Adrien?”

Adrien was blushing furiously. “I just wasn’t expecting it, that’s all!” he burst out. “My face on your desktop? Of course I was going to check it out!”

“Oh my goodness,” Marinette said, burying her face in her hands. She was an odd mixture of furious and mortified and she didn’t quite know how to balance it out. “You’re still here because you were _looking at my desktop photo_?”

“But it’s of _me!_ ” Adrien said, gesturing furiously at the computer. He was still blushing, a distractingly adorable thing that Marinette had to try hard not to focus on. “Why is it…” Then comprehension dawned and his expression shifted from flushed and confused to oddly smug, still blushing, but now pleased with himself. “Oooh, I see.” He purred. “It’s because you liked me, isn’t it?”

Marinette was blushing despite herself. She was supposed to be angry, dang it! She tried to keep her tone brusque. “Of _course_ I liked you, isn’t that what I just told you?”

Adrien raised an eyebrow, still grinning. “Well, as I remember it, there wasn’t exactly much talking involved in that part, m’lady.”

Marinette opened her mouth to respond, then closed it again. He was right. A kiss wasn’t exactly the same thing as a confession. Though, really, it might as well be. Didn’t it sort of imply that she had liked him for a while? Regardless, though, she could see that they weren’t going to get anywhere until this subject was settled. 

“Fine,” she said. “I’ve had a crush on you since I stopped hating you for the gum thing. But that’s not the point right now, the point is—”

“ _That long?_ ” Adrien said incredulously. Then he seemed to remember something. “Wait—it was the umbrella, wasn’t it? You were always so stuttery after that, I wondered why—”

“THE POINT IS,” Marinette continued loudly, blushing deeper. “You never came in through the front door, and now Alya and Nino know you’re here but _my mom_ doesn’t and she’s been downstairs all day, so there’s no way we can say you got here earlier, so how—”

Adrien’s expression shifted. Marinette heard the trapdoor creek behind her. Plagg zoomed back into Adrien's shirt. 

“Adrien!” her mom said as she poked her head up. She sounded surprised, though not perhaps as shocked as she could have been. “When did you get here?”

Marinette froze. She watched as Adrien hitched on his best model smile and opened his mouth to lie. 

“Oh, just now,” he said. “Marinette let me in.”

“That’s strange, I thought I would have heard the bell…”

“Oh, I didn’t ring the doorbell, I just texted Mari,” Adrien lied smoothly. “I didn’t want to bother her if she didn’t want to be bothered.”

“Such a kind young man,” Sabine said, nodding approvingly. “Well, welcome, anyhow. Be a dear and take this plate of croissants, won’t you?”

Adrien complied, and set the plate on one of the few surfaces not covered with spare sheets of homework or scrap fabric. Alya and Nino soon followed, set their plates down, and fixed the couple with the most piercing stare Marinette had ever experienced. 

They waited until the trap door snapped shut behind Sabine. Then the tirade started. 

“What on earth was that all about?” she said, rounding on Adrien. “There is no way you just got here. You told me at 7am that you were coming to visit Mari.”

“Yeah dude, what gives?” Nino said, shrugging palms-up. “How did Mari’s mom not know you’re here?” 

Adrien chuckled nervously. “Ah, I, um… I came in really quietly?” he tried.

Alya folded her arms. “Bull-”

“Sit!” said Marinette interrupted, and all three turned to look at her. “We should all sit down. So we can talk about everything.”

Alya looked like she was going to object, but decided against it. Instead, she gave Adrien a you’re-not-off-the-hook-yet look and turned to take a seat on Marinette’s lounging chair. Nino followed, and Adrien had just started to move towards one of Marinette’s rolling chairs when Marinette grabbed his shoulder and turned him aside. 

“I’m sorry, Mari, I panicked,” Adrien whispered before she could open her mouth. “What do we do?”

Marinette took a deep breath. She was tempted to stay mad at him. She had told him to leave, hadn’t she? But that would be pointless. What had happened, happened. Now they’d just have to roll with the situation.

“I’d be okay with it if you told them,” she whispered back. “If you want to, that is. They can keep it secret, I trust them.”

“Told them…?” Adrien frowned, as if unsure he was understanding properly. 

“You know, told them,” Marinette said. “How you really got here. Who you really are.”

Adrien looked startled for a moment. Marinette could understand why. After all, hadn’t she been the one insisting that no one must know? But the situation was different now. Their friends already knew about her, and it was thanks to their support that she could still smile now. If Adrien needed that support, he could have it as well. He deserved it. 

Adrien must have read something of those thoughts in her face, because his startled expression slid into a smile. 

“If you say so, m’lady,” he grinned, and turned back to the rolling chair. He pushed it towards Marinette, grabbed one for himself, and the two of them settled around the lounging chair and their rather confused friends. 

“Alright,” said Alya, leaning forward. “What’s going on with you two? What’s with all the secrets and the whispering?”

Adrien looked at Marinette. Marinette looked right back. She’d let Adrien take the wheel on this one. After all, they were his secrets. Well, most of them, anyways. She might have to step in if he started talking about his visit this morning. 

“Okay.” Adrien looked from the couple to Marinette and back to the couple again. “Okay. So. You both know that Marinette is Ladybug, right? But you haven’t heard anything about, um, Chat Noir.”

Alya frowned. “No, but what does that have to—”

A dawning comprehension lit up her expression with pure shock. Her jaw dropped.

“No. Way,” she breathed. 

Nino was grinning. “ _Dude,_ " he said. “Seriously? You’re Chat Noir?”

Adrien bowed in his chair with a flourish. “The one and only.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Alya said, holding up her hands. “You mean you’re saying that I was friends with _both_ of Paris’s superheroes? And I didn’t even _notice_?”

Marinette chuckled. “Well, we were trying to keep it a secret.”

Alya would hear none of it. She threw her arms around Nino’s shoulders in mock despair. 

“That’s it, Nino, I give up. I retire. How can I claim to be a superhero expert when I can’t even recognize two superheroes right in front of my face?”

“Aw, babe, it’s okay,” Nino said, wrapping her arms around her. “I had no idea either.” He looked up at Adrien, eyes full of admiration. “Seriously, dude, that is so awesome. Crazy awesome. Getting to run around Paris all the time, no one holding you back? Talk about some sick freedom. I’m happy for you, man.” 

Adrien laughed, and Marinette could tell by the sound of it that he was relieved beyond measure. “Thanks, Nino,” he said, smiling.

“I mean, of course I’m happy for you,” Alya said, poking her head up from Nino’s shoulder. “That goes without saying. My investigative journalism just needs some work, that’s all. Speaking of which…” Alya pushed herself up, and Marinette smiled ruefully. Apparently, the interrogation was back on. “If you’re Chat Noir,” she said, pointing at Adrien, “did you know that Marinette was Ladybug before? Or…”

Adrien shook his head. “Neither of us knew. That’s why I was so shocked when I found out. Though after I thought about it for a bit, it seemed like a silly thing to be shocked about.” He shot a quick smile at Marinette. “It makes a lot of sense.”

“And when you did find out, you came right over here to visit her?” 

“Well, after the news story, yeah.” Adrien shrugged. “I wanted to make sure she was okay.”

“But Mari’s mom didn’t know you were here, which means you must have come as Chat Noir.” Alya frowned. “Not through the door, because then she would have been expecting to see Chat, but she wasn’t. So, how’d you do it?”

“It was the balcony, wasn’t it?” Nino chimed in. So he was into this, too. “Chat Noir could get up there pretty easy, I’d imagine.”

Adrien held up his hands in surrender. “You got me. Chat Noir, through the balcony, with my lady.”

Alya’s eyebrows shot up into the fringes of her hair. It took Marinette a second to realize why, but soon enough, she understood—Adrien did not usually call her “my lady,” not when they weren’t dressed up in spandex suits and saving the world from masked villains. Out of costume, it did sound rather more intimate. Alya began looking back and forth between Marinette and Adrien with what Marinette felt was an uncomfortable amount of comprehension.   

“Soooo,” Alya said, sliding into the vowel in the way that only a friend about to ask a rather personal question can. “How did that visit go?”

Marinette felt a blush rising to her face and tried her best to keep the rest of her expression neutral. She thought it was perhaps time to enter the conversation. 

“It was nice,” she said. “I wasn’t sure that Chat would still want to be my partner after learning who I was, so it was nice to hear him say he still supported me.”

Alya scoffed. “Of course he’d still want to be your partner! In fact, if anything, it would make him want to be your partner _more_ , right, Adrien?” 

Marinette glanced over and saw that Adrien was now blushing at least as badly as she was.  

“Um…” Adrien stammered. “I-I mean…”

“Because you’re such good _partners_ right?” Alya pressed. “Ladybug and Chat Noir…. Marinette and Adrien…”

“Ahhh…” said Adrien.

“Aw, babe, give them a bit of space,” Nino admonished, wrapping an arm around Alya’s shoulders. Adrien smiled gratefully. “If they’re going to take ages to get together, that’s up to them…”

Adrien’s smile flipped to a defensive frown. “Hey, just because we haven’t talked about it yet…

Alya’s eyes lit up. “So something _did_ happen, didn’t it?” she said. 

Marinette felt her blush deepen. She and Adrien looked at each other. They should probably just get this over with. She took a deep breath. 

“Okay,” she said. “Adrien came over as Chat, through the balcony, like you said. We talked for a bit—well, mostly I freaked out and he calmed me down—and at the end of it, we, well, I, decided that I would be okay knowing his identity, since he already knew mine and we were going to have to deal with this whole thing together anyway—”

“And I had already offered to tell you anyway,” Adrien said. “So we both agreed to it.”

“Right,” Marinette nodded. “It was a mutual thing. Then I learned that Chat was Adrien and I sort of started freaking out…” 

Alya snorted. “No surprise there…”

“But she calmed down pretty quickly,” Adrien said, picking up the story. “And then I wanted to tell her how I felt about her, so I told her about the time when we had both just started out as superheroes and I realized I loved her—”

Alya “aww-ed,” and Nino let out a low whistle. Adrien blushed harder. 

“Come on, you guys!” he said, looking between the pair. “You knew I was obsessed with Ladybug!”

“Dude, we thought it was just a celebrity crush,” Nino said. 

“Yeah, we’re only just starting to learn how cute you guys really are,” Alya said. “Let me fangirl a bit.” 

Marinette rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t help but feel oddly content. It was nice to laugh about crushes and relationships in the midst of all this superhero identity drama. It made her feel confident. Bold, even. 

“Well, don’t stop there!” Alya was saying. “Let’s hear the rest of the story! What happened next?” 

Adrien opened his mouth to speak, but Marinette beat him to it. “Oh, I think it went something like this,” she said, and she pulled Adrien’s chair close to her and planted a kiss on his lips. She felt him break into a smile. Alya squeaked. Nino whooped. 

Then Marinette’s phone buzzed in her pocket. She leaned back, smile lingering, and checked the caller ID. 

It was Nadja Chamack. Marinette frowned. Why would Nadja be calling now? Surely it wasn’t about a babysitting job, not after all that had happened. 

“Who…?” Adrien asked. 

“I think I should take this,” Marinette said. “One sec.”

She pressed the green answer button. 

“Hi, Mrs. Chamack,” she said, and saw Adrien, Nino, and Alya all frown with the same confusion she felt. “What can I do for you?”

“Marinette! Thank goodness you answered,” Nadja said. She sounded breathless. “I am so, so sorry about what happened.”

“What—you mean the news report? But that… you didn’t…”

“I refused to report on it, Marinette,” Nadja said. “They showed us the video, that viral one, in the morning and told us that whoever found out who Ladybug was would get an instant raise. As soon as I realized it was you, I told them very firmly that I would have nothing to do with the story, and that if they had any decency at all they would respect what privacy you had left and leave you alone.” Then her voice sunk into a snarl. “But apparently, not all of my coworkers have decency.” 

So that's what had happened. Marinette felt a surge of anger at the man who had apparently decided that his salary was more important than her life, but at the same time, she was touched that Nadja would so defensive of her. 

“It’s alright, Mrs. Chamack,” she said. “I’m sure you did all you could.”

“Not yet I haven’t,” Nadja said. “That’s why I’m calling now. I need to warn you about something.”

“Warn me?” Marinette said, feeling her heart rise to her throat. “About what?”

“The mayor is scheduled to give a statement on Monday about this… ordeal,” Nadja said. “If he decides to withdraw his support, your and Chat Noir’s actions will be seen as unsanctioned vigilante justice and will be prosecuted accordingly.”

“Prosecuted?” Marinette squeaked. “But Mayor Bourgeois has always approved of me and Chat. He made us a _statue_. Why would he change his mind now?”

“I doubt _he_ would,” Nadja said, “but he has some powerful supporters who don’t believe that someone so young could possibly be responsible for so much, despite the fact that you’ve proven yourself many times over. If he crosses them, there’s a good chance he’ll lose the next election.”

Marinette shook her head. She wouldn’t believe it. No one would do something _that_ destructive just to get re-elected. After all, if she and Chat Noir were arrested for fighting the akumas, who could protect the city? No one. Hawkmoth would win. 

“But that would be—”

“Idiotic, I know,” Nadja said. “But Mayor Bourgeois has always been insecure about his position, and loathe to give it up. There’s no telling what he’ll do.”

Marinette felt anxiety creeping into her chest, but she fought it back. She had her own supporters now, too. They could get through this, together.

“What can we do?” she asked, a determined edge sneaking into her voice.

“Meet me outside the TV station tomorrow at two,” Nadja said. “I have a plan.”

Marinette confirmed the time and hung up the phone. Her friends were all looking at her with a mixture of concern and outright alarm. 

“Marinette, what was that?” Adrien asked. 

Marinette took a deep breath, looking from face to face. 

“Just a reality check,” she said. “Now. Who wants to help win over the mayor?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look, plot!
> 
> And now I go drown in all the papers I have to edit for school...
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading!


	6. Processing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which these ridiculous children have some actual conversations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woop! Finally finished this chapter! I'm hoping to get another one or two done during this break, but I will refrain from making promises. :)

Marinette lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling. Her eyelids felt heavy, and, with the warmth of her friends’ presence gone, so did the various problems she had been doing her best to ignore. They sat on her chest like a physical weight, growing heavier by the second.

The four friends had talked a bit, it was true, but not about the really important stuff. None of them had seemed to want to, and with all of them there, it hadn’t felt particularly urgent. Why would she want to think about all the problems and complications in her life when she could giggle over relationships and dramatic reveals? And of course they had to introduce Alya and Nino to Plagg and Tikki. A vastly important thing, really. There was a brief interlude in the giggling and the messing about because of Nadja’s phone call, but that had only really lasted long enough for the group to engage in a rather ill-informed but emotional rant about politics and decide to meet up at Mari’s house the next day before going to the TV station together. But apart from that, they had simply hung out, enjoying each other’s company as if nothing were particularly wrong with the world. It was almost like any normal day, except that she and Adrien had hung on to each other rather a lot more than normal.

Ah, right. That. That was stressful now too.

Because as much as she had kissed Adrien, she hadn’t actually _talked_ to him about their new relationship status, and suddenly she desperately wished she had. Kissing was all well and good, but what did that _make_ them? Were they a couple? He had told her he loved her, so she guessed that was a “yes.” But were they supposed to go on dates now? She could hardly even picture it. It felt so surreal, somehow. No, not surreal—unreal. Surely that wasn’t the best feeling to have going into a relationship.

But the whole relationship issue seemed rather less important when she actually started to think about the implications of Nadja’s call. She had brushed it off at the time—she was among friends, which made her feel strong, invincible, even. Now that confidence was beginning to waver. Vigilante justice? Prosecution? That was serious stuff. If they failed tomorrow, if the mayor _didn’t_ support them, then either Hawkmoth would win or she would have to consciously decide to be a criminal. Chat might be able to get away with it—he still had his mask, after all, his protected identity—but she…

She tried to remember her friends’ supportive words, their promises of undying support, but they sounded distant, hollow. They were all just kids! How could they possibly change the mayor’s mind? Who of them really knew how politics worked anyway? And what if…

Her thoughts were interrupted by a buzzing next to her head. She rolled over and checked the caller ID. It was Alya.

Marinette swiped the answer button with a thumb and brought the phone to her ear. “Hey Alya. What’s up?”

“Hey girl,” Alya said. She sounded somehow like she was biting her lip. “I. Um. Well. I guess I just wanted to apologize. For today.”

Marinette’s mouth quirked into a bemused smile. “Apologize?” she said. “There’s nothing to apologize for. We just hung out.”

“Well, I mean for pressuring you into talking about… you know. Relationship stuff.”

“Alya, are you serious?” Marinette scoffed. “That’s like apologizing for breathing. It’s what friends do.”

Marinette was pleased to hear Alya laugh. “Well, you’re not wrong,” she said. “And don’t get me wrong, I am positive that under any circumstance I would have interrogated you just the same. But… but that probably wasn’t what I should have been focusing on at the time. You know, given the circumstances.”

Marinette felt her breath catch in her throat. “Meaning?”

Alya sighed deeply. “Meaning, of course I wanted to talk about you and Adrien. Like, duh. But I should have asked you how you were doing with the video and everything first. I just really didn’t want to talk about it. Like, _really_.” She took a deep breath and let it all out in a rush of a sentence. “Which is really dumb of me because you probably had a lot of stuff to get off your chest, but I was just scared and I didn’t know what you would say or how you would react and I didn’t want to break down in front of the boys so I chickened out and completely avoided the whole thing. I’m so sorry.”

Marinette took a deep breath. “You don’t think I was avoiding it too?”

Alya chuckled. There was a brief moment of silence.

“You know, we really should just talk about it,” Alya said at last. “Just take the time to work this out. Just the two of us.”

“Yeah. That sounds nice.”

“Shall I just come back to your place then?”

Marinette peered out of the curtain. “Yeah, that’d be best. There are still a few stubborn reporters hanging around outside, so it’s probably best if I don’t leave the house quite yet.”

“Hopefully they’ll all be gone by tomorrow so you can make a clean escape,” Alya chuckled.

“Ha, hopefully,” Marinette said. “See you in five?”

“In five.”

 

Alya arrived four and a half minutes later, breathing a bit heavily.

“I sort of made a run out of it,” she explained. “Just to keep those reporters off my trail. I swear, they’d annoy the crap out of me if I didn’t want to _be_ them one day.” Then her expression suddenly changed. She looked panicked. “Well, not them _exactly_ , but you know. A reporter. A good reporter. I-I mean, not that they aren’t _good_ , like, skill-wise, but like, respect-wise they could use some work, I mean, they should be giving you space…”

Marinette put her hands on Alya’s shoulders. “Alya, it’s _fine_. I knew what you meant.”

Alya smiled and took a deep breath. “Right,” she said. “Well, shall we head upstairs then?”

Marinette agreed, and soon the pair was once more settled around Marinette’s lounging chair. Marinette fidgeted with the end of one of her ponytails, not quite sure where to start. She figured that Alya would probably talk first anyway, and she was not disappointed.

“Okay, so I know I said I’d ask how you were doing,” Alya began, “but first I just want to say that I’m really freaking sorry for what happened. I know you don’t blame me, but really. I should have realized the risks. I should have realized you’d be about to detransform, I just wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry.”

“Alya, _it’s okay_ ,” Marinette said firmly, placing a hand on her friend’s knee. “You weren’t thinking, I wasn’t thinking... we can share the blame. Along with whoever reposted the video. And that stupid reporter.”

Alya smiled. “Oh, I blame them alright. I just also blame me. Never you though.”

Marinette made a face. “Come on, Alya. If I had gone just five more feet…”

Alya raised her hands and shook her head. “Sorry Mari. You’re not changing my mind on this one. You can think whatever, but I will never blame you.”

Marinette rolled her eyes, but she was smiling a bit now too. “Fine, I won’t argue. But seriously. Don’t put too much of this on yourself. Please?”

Alya’s smile faltered a bit. “I mean… okay,” she said at last. “Only because you asked me to.”

“Alya…”

“Is there anything else you wanted to talk about?” Alya interrupted. “Right. Original question: how are you doing? I know it hasn’t been that long, but it must be a lot to deal with. How are you holding up?”

Marinette considered forcing the guilt issue, but the look of stubbornness in her friend’s eyes told her that would be pointless. Instead, she sighed.

“I think I’m doing okay. Better now, since I had that talk with Chat. I mean Adrien,” she saw Alya perk up a bit at the mention of Chat/Adrien, but she plowed ahead. “I was sort of stuck in my own head before then, but he helped me remember that I have a lot of people around me to support me, and that made me feel better. I think I’ll be able to get through this okay. I mean, we will. Provided everything goes well with the mayor tomorrow.”  

Alya nodded sympathetically. “I’m sure we’ll be able to bring him around. Mrs. Chamack must have something good planned, right?”  
“Guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”

There was silence for a few moments. Marinette caught Alya staring at her expectantly.

“What?” she said at last.

“Oh, nothing,” Alya said. “Just wondering if there was anything else you might want to talk about.”

“You just want me to talk about Adrien, don’t you.”  
Alya held up her hands. “Hey, I’m not pressuring you, girl,” she said. “It just seems like something you might want to talk about, that’s all. You know, since he went from crush to crime-fighting partner to kiss-buddy in the space of a morning.”

Marinette opened her mouth to retort, but found that she had none. It _would_ be nice to talk about it.

“Alright, so it’s like this,” she said, and Alya smiled broadly and tucked her feet up underneath her so she was sitting cross-legged on the lounging chair like an elementary student on a carpet square. “Chat Noir comes in and at first I’m scared he’s going to be disappointed in me or whatever but then it turns out he’s super supportive and keeps calling me amazing and everything and tells me that I’ll never be alone, which is great and, I mean, he’s always been great about stuff like that, supporting me and encouraging me and all that, and so I’m starting to think, okay. I can do this. I can face this stuff. And that makes me think, oh, I can know who Chat is too, so we’ll be on level ground, you know? So we can be a team in costume and out, because, like, I knew I needed his support, so I pull of his ring…”

“What, you _what_?” Alya said.

“I pulled off his ring,” Marinette repeated. “What?” she added, seeing the shocked expression still on Alya’s face. “I told you this all before, didn’t I?”

“You sort of skipped that part,” Alya said, eyes wide. “I mean, I assumed that eventually you learned that Adrien was Chat because otherwise you would have been surprised when he told us? Or when he was in your room? But you never actually said how it happened. You just sort of kissed Adrien and then Nadja called, so…”

Marinette blushed. “Oh yeah. That. Yeah. Well, that happened too. Just, later.”

Alya scooted forward a bit on the chair. “Okay, okay, keep going then. What happened after you pulled his ring off?”

“Well, I pulled off his ring and there was Adrien. _Adrien_ , Alya! Just sitting there! Like, two feet away from me! And at first I was just freaking out but then I started thinking and processing and like… do you know how weird that is? That I’ve been crushing on Adrien this whole time, but he’s been right there? As Chat?”

Alya laughed. “I know, girl. After all, I’ve been practically stalking Ladybug and you’ve been right in front of me this whole time.”

Marinette smiled. “Okay, fair point. It’s just… strange. I had this image of Adrien in my head and now… I don’t know. I thought he was so far away, but it turns out he’s one of my best friends. Like, I have spent _a lot_ of time with him, Alya. Patrols. Akumas. Publicity stuff. With _Adrien_. But… it was just Chat, you know? So it didn’t feel weird or anything, it was just…” She searched for the words to describe the sensation of simultaneous familiarity and strangeness, but there were none. She gave up and finished, “… I don’t know.”

Alya frowned. “You still like him though, don’t you? I mean, I assumed, with all the kissing…”

Marinette grabbed Alya’s knee in earnest. “I _do_ , Alya! That’s the thing! I like him a lot! Like, all these things I’m learning about him just make him even more attractive.”

“Even the bad puns?”

“Okay, maybe not the bad puns,” Marinette conceded. “But Chat is super fun and supportive and kind and brave. And selfless.”

“So what’s the problem?” Alya asked.

“There isn’t one!” Marinette said. “That’s the problem! Everything is perfect!” Alya laughed. Marinette hurried to explain. “No, no, listen, here’s how it went: I learned that Chat is Adrien. Then I realized that not only do I still like Adrien, but now I know him really well. Then Adrien comes out with this _declaration of love_ that apparently he’s been keeping tucked away since he freaking _met_ me, and he _still_ says it to me even though he knows who I am…”

“You mean _because_ he knows who you are,” Alya corrected.

Marinette waved her off. “And then BANG, we’re together! It’s so _surreal_! I don’t know what to do!”

“Well, to be honest, I don’t see any problem with that,” Alya said, grinning. “Sorry, girl. You’ll just have to get used to it. Your stalker-ish, one-sided love-life is now dead. I’ll say nice words at its funeral.”

“But.. but...” Marinette sputtered. “I didn’t even have to confess! It wasn’t even hard! I just…”

“You just kissed him,” Alya finished for her. “Not a particularly talkative method, but straightforward. I can appreciate that.”

“ _Alya_!” Marinette said, aghast. “Work with me here! What do I _do_?”

Alya untucked her legs and took a deep breath. “Look, Marinette,” she said. “You’re in a relationship now with the boy of your dreams, and one of your best friends. I say you take that and run with it—you deserve it, you deserve him, he deserves you, you’re perfect for each other.”

Marinette frowned. “But… really? I can’t just… I mean… it sounds too _easy_ …”

Alya held up a finger. “That’s because you haven’t actually done any relationship-ing yet,” she said.

“What?”

“You heard me,” Alya said. “You haven’t seen how it works at school, you haven’t been on a date, you haven’t had an argument yet…”

Marinette snorted. “Oh, Chat Noir and I have had plenty of arguments. I doubt that will change.”

“But you haven’t had them as a couple yet,” Alya said. “That’s what I mean. You haven’t tested how this all _works_.”

Marinette felt her stomach drop. “Wait… so you’re saying that none of this is actually going to work out?” she said. “You’re saying that we’ll just fight all the time and it will be terrible?”

“No!” Alya said vehemently. “Absolutely not. I think you two will be the most disgustingly sweet couple on the face of the earth.”

“But then why…”

“What I _am_ saying is that it will take _work_.” Alya leaned back again, hands on her knees. “That’s what’ll make it feel real. Don’t worry if it seems too good to be true now. Soon enough, you’ll run into your problems. You know, arguments and stuff. But trust me—if you’re both committed to it, which I think you very well are, then you can work through those together,” she smiled. “That’s how it works with me and Nino, anyways.”

Marinette sat back in her chair. A bit of work? She could do that. She was a hard worker—she prided herself in that. They could make this work. They could be a normal couple.

Correction: a superhero couple. But still.

She felt herself smiling.

“Thanks Alya,” she said. “I needed that.”

Alya grinned back. “No problem girl. Now I guess we just have to worry about the mayor, right?” Marinette’s face fell, and Alya blanched. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay,” Marinette said. She took a deep breath. “That’s tomorrow’s problem. We’ll face it when we come to it. Sound good?”

Alya nodded. “Sounds good.”

Marinette swiveled her chair around. “Now, it seems to me that I still have a bunch of snacks up here from earlier,” she said. “Tikki, want to help us clean them up?”

A red blur streaked from Marinette’s bed, stopping inches in front of her face.

“I thought you’d never ask,” Tikki grinned.

  

* * *

 

 

Adrien was having one of the strangest days of his entire life.

The previous night, he had gone to bed thinking that he would have a normal weekend, uneventful save the photoshoot, the fencing practice, the piano lesson, and the endless hours playing video games by himself in his room.

The video had rather changed all that.

Now, he was sprinting across the rooftops as Chat Noir away from the house of his first-friend-turned-love-of-his-life-turned-girlfriend-question-mark, resisting the temptation to check his baton for the eighth time. He already knew he was going to be late for the shoot, and that his father would be angry about it. What was the point in checking?

At the next rooftop, he flipped open his baton. Ten minutes past twelve. Yep, still late.

But as he swung over the park, he noticed something strange. The camera man wasn’t set up yet. He wasn’t there at all.

He detransformed and checked his phone, ignoring Plagg’s moans for cheese. There was a message there from Nathalie. He was a bit surprised that he hadn’t noticed it, but he supposed he shouldn’t be—his phone had been on silent all morning, after all. He flicked it open.

 _Shoot canceled_ , it read. _Your father had urgent business._

There was also a voicemail. That was strange—Nathalie usually kept her correspondence brief. Adrien pressed play and held the phone close to his ear. It was, in fact, Nathalie's voice.

"Adrien—I heard from your friend Marinette’s parents that you visited her house early this morning."

Adrien started. She had found out that quickly? Well, Nathalie did have her ways. He kept listening.

"Ordinarily such unsanctioned excursions would be strictly prohibited and I would be obliged to report your behavior to your father. However, I have reviewed the circumstances and come to the conclusion that you were acting solely for the sake of your friend and therefore I will neglect to mention this particular outing. I must warn you, though—I will not be able to keep future outings so private. Good day."

The message ended with a small click. Adrien lowered the phone slowly. The message was clear enough—you got away with running around this time, but you can’t keep doing it forever.

_But I need to be there for Marinette tomorrow when we all face the mayor…_

More complications. He decided that the best course of action right now was to go home and play video games and think about it.

He could just play alone. Or…

He looked at his phone. Nino wouldn’t be busy right now, would he?

Half an hour later, he and Nino were settled comfortably on Adrien’s rather ostentatious couch, rapidly punching buttons. They had decided on Ultimate Mecha Strike III, partially because it was fun and partially because Adrien didn’t really want a thinking game right now. He supposed Ultimate Mecha Strike III _could_ be a thinking game, if he were better at it. Maybe if he were as good as Marinette. She probably put rather a lot of thought into it when she played. He remembered her with her eyes glued to the screen, tongue sticking out just slightly, leaning in, close to the screen.

He really needed to find a way to get to the TV station tomorrow. He _definitely_ wanted to be there for her. If only he could just…

A series of rapid buzzes in his controller jerked him back to reality.

“Dude, you got _creamed_ ,” Nino said, stretching back as the victory screen flashed a picture of his avatar. “You doing okay? You usually wipe the floor with me in these sorts of games.”

Adrien let out a heavy sigh. “I think I’m fine? I dunno… just thinking about tomorrow, I guess.”

“I feel that,” Nino said, nodding. “You wanna talk about it? Or just keep letting me virtually beat you up?”

Adrien laughed a little. “You sure you want to hear about it? It’ll be pretty sappy and mopey.”

Nino put his controller down on the couch between them and looked Adrien straight in the eye. “Adrien. Dude. I am your friend. Of _course_ I want to hear about it.”

Adrien smiled gratefully. “Okay. Well, Nathalie made it very clear that today’s morning excursion was an exception, not a rule. There’s no way she’ll let me run around tomorrow.”

“Ouch. That’s rough,” Nino said. “But dude, you’re _Chat Noir_. Can’t you just, like, hop out a window or something?”

“I wish,” Adrien said. “I mean, that’s what I did this morning. But father tends to get… concerned when he can’t find me in the house.”

They shared a vivid flashback to the previous Christmas. Both shuddered.

“Okay, fair point,” Nino said. “I guess even Chat Noir’s freedom’s sort of limited then, huh?”

“Ha, yeah.” Adrien rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, at least I get to be myself, even if I can’t be wherever I want to be.”

He hadn’t particularly meant to say it, it just sort of slipped out. But it did not slip by Nino. He was looking at him intensely, brow furrowed.

“Be yourself?” he said. “Dude, you know you can be yourself around me, right? Mask or no.”

Adrien hurried to explain. “No! I mean yes, of course I know that! But when I’m out there, you know, in public, I’m not just Adrien, I’m Adrien _Agreste_. Anything and everything I do could reflect back on my father. I have to be careful. As Chat though…”

Nino was nodding. “Oh, I gotcha,” he said. “As Chat, it’s just you. Nothing to hold you back.”

“Exactly,” Adrien said.

“Sounds like I’ll have to hang out with Chat sometime, then,” Nino smiled. “Could be fun.”

Adrien’s face lit up. “Dude, that would be _awesome_. We should totally do that. When would…” He faltered, remembering. Tomorrow. Right. “Well, right after…”

“Right after we get everything sorted with the Mayor,” Nino finished for him. “I gotcha.”

Adrien slouched forward, dropping his chin into his hands. “I’ve gotta figure out some way to get there. Maybe I can convince Nathalie that she has some sort of meeting and then while she’s running around trying to find it I can go to the TV station and…”

“Dude,” Nino cut him off. “You could just ask.”

“What?” Adrien looked up.

“Ask your dad. You never know.”

Adrien snorted. “Nino, you’ve seen how well that goes. That’s what got you _akumatized_ , remember?”

“Yeah, well, that was over a birthday party,” Nino shrugged, not looking directly at him. “This is different. This is for a friend. Besides, your dad approves of Marinette, right? She always wins his design contests and stuff. And, I mean, he _has_ to approve of Ladybug. So maybe he’d be okay with it.”

“Well…”

“It’s worth a shot, anyways,” Nino said stubbornly. “I know your dad is ridiculous, but he can’t be _that_ cruel.”

Adrien snorted again, but maybe Nino was right. His dad was strict, but he wasn’t _cruel_. And he did like Marinette, as far as Adrien knew.

“Alright, I’ll ask,” Adrien conceded at last. “But only because you told me to.”

“Sweet,” Nino grinned. “And if he says no, clock him over the head and sneak out as Chat Noir.”

“Nino!”

“Just kidding,” Nino laughed. “But seriously, I think he’ll agree. I mean, you’re asking for permission to go support the love of your life. He has to know love when he sees it, right?”

Adrien blushed. “R-right. Thanks, Nino.”

“No sweat, A— ”

Just then, there was a sharp rap on the door. It swung open to reveal Nathalie, standing stiff as always, tablet in hand.

“Adrien?” she said. “Your father would like to see you.”

Adrien twisted around to face her. “Father? I thought you said he had urgent business.”

“Well, he’s back,” Nathalie said, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. Now that Adrien was facing her, he could see that she looked fairly frazzled. “He’s back, and he’s asked for you. So, come.” Both Adrien and Nino stood. Nathalie started when she saw Nino. “Oh, I see you have a friend here. Shall I—”

“I can see myself out,” Nino said. He winked at Adrien. “Good luck, man.”

“Thanks,” Adrien smiled back.

Nino slid past Nathalie and out of the room, and then it was just Adrien and Nathalie, staring at each other.

“Adrien, your father is waiting.”

Adrien took a deep breath. His heart was beating perhaps a bit quickly, but his legs were stable.

“Alright,” he said. “I’m coming.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the chapter! I wasn't really expecting to write these conversations, but after re-reading the rest of what I'd written, I decided they were necessary. Next chapter will move on to bigger plot-related things, so stay tuned!  
> Thanks for reading!


	7. Parental Permission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Adrien and Marinette talk to their parent(s). One talk goes significantly better than the other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not dead! Woo!
> 
> This chapter's pretty dang short, but I think it works nicely as a unit, so I'm not going to try to inorganically stretch it out. :P
> 
> Enjoy!

Adrien stepped into his father’s office, trying to keep his expectations low. Permission to be out for one hour. Half an hour. How much time would he need?

But he hadn’t called the meeting—he had been summoned. He would have to play this carefully. Listen first, then talk. Don’t make him angry.

Gabriel dismissed Nathalie with a wave of his hand. Not a good sign, but not necessarily a bad one either.   
“Adrien,” he said as soon as the door shut behind her. “I trust you’re doing well?”

“Fine, father,” Adrien said. He could almost taste the tension.  

Gabriel nodded. “Good, good.” There was a slight pause, an awkward pause. Neither of them were very good at this familial chit-chat stuff. Finally, he moved on. “It has come to my attention that one of your classmates has recently been identified as none other than the superhero Ladybug. Are you aware of this?”

Adrien nodded stiffly. “Yes, I heard this morning. She’s one of my friends, Marinette. You remember her. She won your fashion competitions.” Was he babbling? His nerves prickled. He forced his mouth shut.

“Yes, of course.” Gabriel pursed his lips. “Well, regardless of past friendships, I fear I must advise you to stay away from her now. It is far too dangerous to be close to a superhero. I refuse to allow you to be in the line of fire.”

 _What_? Adrien bristled, immediately on the defensive. “Marinette is my friend,” he said. _Girlfriend_? But he didn’t dare say more, not only because he hadn’t discussed the matter with Marinette, but also because now might not be the best time to reveal that particular piece of information to his father. “I’m not going to abandon her.”

Gabriel frowned, brow furrowed. “No need to get dramatic,” he said. “I’m only asking that you not get too close. I don’t want you to be in danger, Adrien. Your safety comes first.”

“No, _her feelings_ come first,” he scowled. He was dimly aware that a few seconds ago he had sworn not to anger his father. Dimly. “If she needs me, then I’ll stay close to her. That’s that.”

Gabriel was looking at him strangely, eyebrows still furrowed, but eyes calculating. Adrien tried and failed to hold his gaze.

“Adrien, is it possible… do you have feelings for this girl?”

There was something dangerous in his father’s tone that made him think he should deny it, but he couldn’t do that. Not after swearing that he would support her.

“She’s a wonderful girl, Father.”

Gabriel’s lips tightened into a line. “Maybe so.” There was a beat of silence. Then, “And I suppose you think she might feel the same about you, hmm?”

Adrien hesitated, reason fighting temper. Temper one. He spoke tersely. “Yes, I think she might.”

Gabriel frown deepened, but he didn’t look angry. He looked contemplative.

Then quite suddenly, he spoke again. “Adrien, understand that if you don’t cut off contact with this girl, I’ll have to withdraw you from the school.” Gabriel’s voice calm, detached, almost. “Do you think I want to do that?”

Adrien’s anger boiled up in an instant. “Are you serious? Father, that’s ridiculous!”

“It’s only reasonable, Adrien,” Gabriel said. “I _will_ keep you safe. I can’t have you consorting with superheroes. It’s much too dangerous.”

“All my friends are there!”

“And are therefore in danger, just like anyone who decides to associate with Miss Dupain-Cheng,” Gabriel said. “I will not have you in the same position.”

“Father, she can protect herself!” Adrien shouted. “And everyone around her! She’s _Ladybug_!”

“And is therefore a target for whatever decides to attack Paris,” Gabriel said, slowly, as if explaining something very simple to a small child. “Be reasonable, Adrien.”

“Be…” Adrien scoffed, unable to find words. “This is _insane_! I’m not a child, father. I can handle a little danger, and Ladybug most certainly can!”

Gabriel’s chair slid backwards as he pushed himself to his feet. He looked down at Adrien, face impassive, emotionless. “Son, you are still a child, and I am still your father. I will not be spoken back to. To you room, now.”

Adrien’s jaw dropped. “Father—”

“No, this conversation is _over_. Your bodyguard will be sent to attend to you. And I’ll have your phone.”

“What?”

“Your _phone_ , Adrien. Now. And I’ll be revoking your internet access as well. There will be no contacting your friends. You are grounded.”

Adrien considered for a moment refusing to relinquish his phone, just to see what would happen. He held his father’s steely eyes for a full second before their razor edge punctured his resolve and he deflated. When had he ever won a fight against his father? Never. And he never would.

He handed his phone over to his father and returned to his room. The Gorilla was already there, waiting for him, a babysitter for a rebellious toddler.

 

* * *

 

Marinette padded softly down the steps leading up to her room. She had barely been downstairs all day—only once to grab her friends, and once more to accept lunch from her mother. After lunch had been a nap, and after the nap Alya had come over and they had talked until late afternoon. Now it was nearly dinnertime and she decided she finally would do what she had been putting off since the afternoon.

She would talk to her parents.

She had talked to them already of course, sobbed on them hysterically when they had come in at that ungodly morning hour to check on their screaming daughter, but that hadn’t been real conversation. That had been her wailing and them comforting her and assuring her that they would support her no matter what.

She loved their comfort and support. But she needed to talk more.

What did they really think about it? Their only daughter, Ladybug? Were they proud? Scared? And what about the broadcast, that skeptical reporter’s words? Did they agree? Or did they trust her to handle herself?

They had been giving her space, she knew—time to process, time to work stuff out on her own. But in order to process things properly, she needed them too.

She tiptoed into the kitchen and wasn’t surprised to see both of them there. They were baking together—something she knew they loved to do—some sort of tart that was no doubt going to be for dinner. As they cooked they also hummed lightly, dancing around each other, sometimes harmonizing sometimes getting the notes terribly wrong and dissolving into chuckles of laughter. Marinette watched them silently from the doorway for a moment, enjoying their happiness.

Doubt began to prickle in her mind.

She was dangerous. She did dangerous things and now danger would be draw to her, no matter her form, since everyone knew who she was.

Would she be able to keep them safe? Would they thank her for it, or would they blame her for bringing it on them in the first place?

Then she noticed that the humming had stopped, and both her parents were looking at her with a soft concern. Her mother dried her hands on her apron and reached out towards her, arms wide. Marinette went to her and let herself be embraced.

“How are you doing, sweetheart?” her father said. His voice was tentative—not weak-tentative, but careful, as if he was handling something very delicate with his large hands and didn’t want to break it.

Marinette took a deep breath.

“I’m... okay,” she said. “Can we talk?”

 

* * *

 

Adrien sat on his couch, fuming. Ultimate Mecha Strike III was still in the console. He considered turning it on and up to full volume to try to spite his father, but the walls were mostly soundproof so he doubted that would have any affect. So instead he just sat and stewed.

He wasn’t all angry at his father either. He was angry at himself, and that made things harder.

Why couldn’t he stand up for himself? He had gone in intending to get permission to go out to support Marinette and had instead ended up in his room, alone, forbidden from contacting anyone.

Well, not _completely_ alone.

The Gorilla stood in a corner, looking stoic and vaguely bored. Adrien probably could do anything and the man wouldn’t flinch. He had already tried climbing up his rock wall several times to try to get some of his angry energy out, then flinging himself onto his couch from progressively higher heights. He doubted that was safe, but the Gorilla had absolutely no reaction. Not a great babysitter.

The one thing the Gorilla did do, however, was keep him from transforming, which was unfortunately the only thing he wanted to do right now. He wanted to transform and run out his frustration across the rooftops of Paris, sleepover at Nino’s, and meet up with Marinette and Alya the next day. Screw his father’s worrying, screw everything—he wanted to be with Marinette.

But with the Gorilla there, that whole plan fell to shambles.

He had considered escaping through the bathroom, as he had done in the past, but no doubt the Gorilla would notice he was missing within minutes and alert his father, and he was not about to instigate another city-wide search for a missing child. He had even briefly considered transforming in front of the Gorilla, just to see what would happen, but he dismissed that idea almost immediately. The Gorilla would tell his father, no doubt, and Adrien didn’t even want to _think_ about what would happen if his father found out about his secret masquerading.

But on the other hand, if he could get the Gorilla on his side, convince him to be quiet…

Adrien shook his head. It was a bad plan. It would only complicate things.

There had to be some way…

The sun was getting low in the sky.

If he was going to come up with something, he’d better do it soon.

He needed some way to placate his father. Some way to talk to him without risking another temper flare. But how could he…

Then he spied a pen and paper on the table in front of him and an idea sparked to life. He pulled them close and hunched over the coffee table, tapping the pen against his cheek.

 

In another part of the city, a girl and her parents were sitting together on a couch, arms around each other. Their voices were soft. The girl had tears in her eyes.

“Oh, Marinette.”

 

_Dear Father…_

 

“Don’t cry, sweetheart.”

 

_I would like to apologize for the way I acted earlier._

 

“Of course we believe in you.”

 

_You are only trying to keep me safe._

 

“Are we a bit scared about all the danger you get in to?”

 

_You are right, the situation is dangerous._

 

“Of course we are.”

 

_You are afraid for me. I understand._

 

 “But we also trust you.”

 

_But I need you to trust me, just this once._

 

 We’ve seen what you are capable of.”

 

_I can take care of myself._

 

“You’re the protector of Paris!”

 

_Marinette is my friend. I promised I would support her._

 

“We are so, so proud of you.”

 

_I know you’re angry with me, but please, let me talk to her._

 

“We love you, Marinette.”

 

_Sincerely, Adrien._

 

Adrien folded up the letter. The Gorilla summoned Nathalie, who, after exchanging a few words, took the letter, a look of sympathy in her eyes.

Then Adrien waited.

        And waited.

              And waited.

But there was no response.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! I'm still working on this fic! Yay!
> 
> I think I want to try to get a semi-regular schedule going, just to make sure I keep writing it and you guys know when to expect updates. Based on my past update schedule, it seems that my most reasonable goal would be one chapter a month. Yeah, it's slow, I know, but if I try to push it faster than that I get rushed chapters that I'm not super happy with, and no one wants that, I think. :P
> 
> Thanks for reading! See you next month!


	8. Confrontations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which they finally go to the TV station (well most of them).  
> Also, stuff gets real, guys. Stuff gets real.

Adrien half-expected a note from his father to be waiting for him when he woke up, but to his dismay, there was nothing. Just the Gorilla, still standing, watching. Had the Gorilla slept at all? Or had he just stood there all night?

The sky outside his windows was a stony grey. It looked like it might rain later. Not that that would make any difference for him, trapped inside as he was. But it might make the walk to the TV station a bit less pleasant for his friends. What did Nadja have planned, anyway? Adrien wished he could be around to find out, but it was pointless now. He was trapped.

He considered not leaving his bed, but decided that would be a bit too melodramatic, even for him. So instead he pushed himself up and started getting himself ready for the day.

 

* * *

 

“He’s not picking up his phone.”

“Well, he said his dad might not let him out.”

“But couldn’t he just slip away?”  
“He said his dad would notice. Remember Christmas?”

“Hmmm…”

“Maybe we should just leave without him?”

Marinette drummed her fingers against her arm as she listened to Alya and Nino go back and forth. She wanted to wait for Adrien, but it was already getting dangerously close to two o’clock. They were probably already going to be late—if they didn’t leave soon, they definitely would be.

She felt large hands on her shoulders and looked up. Her dad was standing behind her, his expression kind.

“I know you wanted your friend to be here, Marinette, but we’re all here to support you. It’s going to be fine.”

Marinette felt a calming wave sweep through her stomach and nodded. With her parents on her side, she felt, if not happy about the whole thing, at least a bit more confident. That didn’t mean she liked the idea of leaving Adrien behind, but her dad was right. She had plenty of support already.

And she didn’t want to be _too_ late.

She sighed.

“Alright,” she said. “Let’s go.”

The five of them walked in relative silence as they made their way to the TV station. The sky was slate gray. Marinette pulled her coat tighter around her and tried not to think of it as a bad omen.

As they neared the TV station, Marinette thought she could make out a small crowd standing outside of it. She squinted. Why would there be this many people? Then a figure in the middle of the crowd noticed them and started waving them closer.

“Marinette!” she called, and Marinette recognized the voice as Nadja’s. “Glad you could make it!”

Marinette jogged over, followed closely by her friends and her parents. As she did, she noticed more and more faces in the crowd she recognized. The first she noticed was Jagged Stone— _Jagged Stone!_ —smiling at her and giving her a flashy thumbs-up. His photographer fan was standing by his shoulder, not too close, and not taking any pictures, but he, too, smiled when he saw Marinette. Then there was XY, keeping a bit of distance between himself and Jagged, muttering something to someone on the phone. He seemed to be arguing. She just barely caught a few phrases: “it’s a celebrity endorsement!” and “trust me—it’ll be good for the brand.” There were less famous faces there as well, though—Theo the sculptor and Miray the weather girl stood on the edge of the circle, talking in hushed tones. There were a few Parisians that Marinette recognized by sight though not by name. And there were those whose names she knew, well—Rose, Juleka, Ivan, Nathaniel… in fact, almost all of her classmates were there, excepting Chloe. And, of course, Adrien.

Alya seemed to notice this as well, taking the crowd in with one sweep of her eyes.

“What’s this all for?” she said, voicing the words that Marinette had suddenly lost.

Nadja smiled. “We’re giving the mayor a bit of a… presentation,” she said. “I figured he needed to hear, and see, people who feel differently than his precious donors. So I gathered everyone here.”

“Not Chloe though?” said Alya, voice spiked with spite. “Or did she say she couldn’t come?”

“Ah, well,” Nadja said, reddening slightly, “I wasn’t sure contacting Chloe would be the best idea. She is the mayor’s daughter, after all, which complicates her position, and given her rather… tempestuous attitude, and her general behavior towards Marinette—apologies, Marinette, I couldn’t help but notice—I thought it best to simply avoid the issue.”

Marinette nodded. She was not sorry to see that Chloe was not there. In truth, she wasn’t sure how the girl would react—she had been Ladybug’s biggest fan, but she _hated_ Marinette. Marinette wasn’t entirely sure what she would do if she saw Chloe’s hero worship of her shatter with the revelation of her identity. Not that she _liked_ the hero worship, not that she even liked _Chloe_ , but for some reason the thought of that reversal, the thought of the renewed disdain, betrayal even, in her eyes, made Marinette’s stomach queasy.

But Chloe wasn’t here. Her friends were. Her parents were. All these people were, all these people whose very presence proclaimed that they trusted her, that they supported her. She felt her heart, so anxious just moments before, swell dangerously full, full to bursting. She wasn’t sure it would hold. It felt fragile.

 _They trust you, they trust you, you helped them, you did a good job,_ said a voice in her head.

And she was afraid, because she was on the verge of believing herself. Of believing _in_ herself.

“Marinette?” She felt a hand on her shoulder. It was Alya. “You okay?”

Marinette smiled, her heart beating fast. “Yeah,” she said, slightly breathless. “Yeah, definitely.”

She turned to look at Nadja, beaming.

“Thank you,” she said, and she meant it. “I… I can’t believe you’re doing all this for me.”

Nadja shook her head. “Anything I can do to help fix what my… inconsiderate coworker did to you, I’m happy to do. We all are.”

“But…” Marinette frowned. “But that wasn’t your fault. That was his. Wasn’t it?”

Nadia let out a puff of air, her mouth twitching into a smile. “Don’t play that game, sweetheart.”

“What?”

“You know, the Blame Game,” she said, waving a hand. “His fault, my fault, your fault… it never ends. Just take the situation you have and work with it as best you can.”

Marinette stared at Nadja for a second, her mouth slightly open. She felt a bit of a nudging in her purse—no doubt Tikki making her agreement known. Marinette’s thoughts of guilt swirled like dirt kicked up from the bottom of a pond only recently settled. She glanced over at Alya, who was frowning slightly, clearly thinking the same things.

_His fault. Alya’s fault. My fault…_

Marinette closed her mouth and swallowed.

It didn’t matter?

_My fault…_

She couldn’t just let that go, could she? How would she ever learn how to do things right if she just let herself forget her guilt?

But Nadja was right. Thinking about it wouldn’t change anything. Doing something would.

She exhaled and looked over at Alya. They exchanged a look, then together, they nodded.

Marinette grinned.

“Right. Let’s do this.”

 

* * *

  

Adrien looked at the clock that sat next to his bed. 1:57. It was almost time. He flopped down on his bed and squeezed his eyes shut. His guts felt heavy. He wanted to be there with her.

One way or another, he would find a way to support her eventually. Even if it meant going against his father.

 

* * *

 

The group arrived outside City Hall at precisely 2:00. Nadja turned to face the crowd.

“Thank you everyone for coming today,” she said. “Your presence alone is valuable, as I’m sure you know. If you feel like you have something specific you’d like to say in Marinette’s favor, you should have a chance. Try to keep it short—I’m not sure how much time we’ll have.”

The crowd filled with nods. Nadja returned a curt bob of her head, then turned and pushed the doors open.

Mayor Bourgeois was waiting for them in the lobby. Well, waiting for Nadja. He didn’t look like he had been expecting _them_.

“M.. Mrs. Chamack!” he stammered. “What is this? You arranged for an interview…”

 “And we are all here to be interviewed,” Nadja said, feet spread, arms crossed. “Please, Mayor Bourgeois, ask us what we think about Miss Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

The Mayor looked at Nadja, then at the crowd, then back to Nadja. He looked torn between anger, fear, and resignation.

Resignation won. He sighed.

“Well, I can see you aren’t going to be leaving any time soon,” he said. “Up to my office then, if you will, and I will hear what you have to say. Though I doubt there's anything I haven't heard before…”

He added the last bit in a mutter before turning and leading the way up the stairs and through a set of impressive dark wood doors into his equally impressive office. He sat down behind his desk as the group filed through and filled the room. And they did fill the room—almost completely. Marinette noticed Nathaniel and Theo the sculptor perched on one of the tables, and Rose and Juleka trying their best not to be skewered by the scale model of the city that stood on a small table to the mayor’s right. Nino, Alya, and her parents all stuck close to her, as if to defend her from the Mayor’s gaze. Marinette knew it probably wasn’t necessary, but it made her feel safer anyway. She felt another wave of gratitude for them, for everyone in the room.

Then, when they were all settled with the door closed behind them, Nadja spoke.

“It has come to our attention that, upon learning Ladybug’s true identity, several of your supporters made various attempts to convince you to withdraw your official support,” she began. “We are here to convince you that doing so would be a grave mistake.” The mayor raised an eyebrow. She continued. “Every single person here has been saved by Ladybug—by Miss Dupain-Cheng—at least once, most more than once. We feel that, despite her youth, she has proven herself sufficiently and should be allowed to continue operations with her partner, Chat Noir, as she has done for the past year.”

“Hmm,” the Mayor sighed, unperturbed, glancing over the crowd. “Is Chat Noir here, by the way? You know, there are people clamoring for his identity as well now, fearing that he may be just as… _youthful_ as Miss Ladybug…”

“That is absolutely beside the point,” Nadia said, each word dangerously enunciated. “Together, Ladybug and he have proven themselves more than capable. As I said, they have saved all of the people in this room _multiple times_. Which, I might add, amounts to saving all of Paris multiple times. Their youth should have nothing to do with this.”

The mayor sighed again, rubbing his temples, but didn’t say anything.

Nadja stared down at him, incredulous. She stood stock still for a moment, hands in fists by her side, then turned to the crowd and gestured pointedly at the mayor.

“Anyone care to speak?” she said, face and voice a mystery of emotion.

Jagged Stone stepped forward. Mayor Bourgeoisie looked up in surprise. Apparently he hadn’t noticed him before.

“Allow me.” Jagged grinned.

 

* * *

  

Adrien was lying on his bed, half-asleep. He hadn’t meant to doze off, but the combination of stress and boredom was wearing him out. Plus, his bed was pretty dang soft. Perks of being rich, he guessed. He had been trying to think of ways to help Marinette when he had started slipping in and out of consciousness, mind circling around one idea after another but never really sticking on any. The final echoes of those thoughts were still buzzing around in his mind, mixing with fragments of half-formed dreams—run away. Carry her off. Be carried off. Escape. Be free.

Then, with an enormous clang, steel panels slammed shut over the windows.

Adrien jerked upright in the sudden darkness. The security system. Someone had triggered the security system.

“What’s going on?” he demanded of the Gorilla, but the Gorilla looked just as shocked as he was, body tensed for action.

Then there was a buzz from the pager in the Gorilla’s belt. He flipped it open, took half a second to register what it said, then stowed it and, with a nod to Adrien, left the room.

And just like that, Adrien was finally alone.

Plagg zoomed out of hiding, flying towards the steel, phasing in and out.

“Woah ho ho!” he said. “ _Some_ thing’s going on, that’s for sure!”

“Plagg, get back here!” Adrien said, jumping out of bed. “We have to be ready in case something happens!”

Plagg spiraled back lazily. “Oh, come on, what could happen?”

“What could happen?!” Adrien repeated incredulously. “Father only triggers the security system when the house is in serious danger.”

“Yeah, or maybe he just misplaced his designs and he’s convinced someone's stolen them,” Plagg scoffed. “Hate to break it to you, Adrien, but your old man’s a bit paranoid. I mean, why does he even have all this security in the first place? It’s ridiculous.”

Adrien scowled. “Okay, maybe sometimes he gets a bit… overly concerned. But he wouldn’t trigger this without a reason, I’m sure of it.”

“Reason schmeason,” Plagg said, flying up to Adrien’s face. “The way I see it, this is your chance to esca—”

The door burst open, cutting Plagg short. He flew into Adrien’s shirt as Adrien whirled around to face the entrance.

There was a flurry of butterflies. From their center stepped a man.

 

* * *

 

They had been in the office for at least an hour now. Marinette’s heart was full of all of the trust and praise her peers, friends, and fellow Parisians were lavishing on her, and yet it was also still constricted with anxiety. The mayor’s expression was unreadable. Maybe he had really heard all this before, and his mind was already made up. Then again, there was also the possibility that he had still been teetering on the edge, and their words had tipped the scale enough to convince him to rule in her favor. The delicacy of it made Marinette want to hold her breath, just to keep from agitating anything further.

Then Rose finished speaking and stepped back into the crowd, and no one else stepped forward. They had all had their turn.

“Well, if that’s everything…” the mayor started to say, but was cut short by the noise of the door flying open. Marinette whipped her head around just in time to see Chloe burst into the room.

Oh no.

Marinette braced herself for impact, but Chloe brushed past her, eyes set on her father.

“Daddy, are you really still thinking about this?” she said, slamming her hands down on his desk. “I’ve _told_ you...”

“Now Chloe…”

Chloe colored and gathered her breath to respond, but Alya beat her to it.

“Yeah, Chloe, beat it!” she interjected. “Just because you hate Marinette…”

Chloe ignored her. Her attention was entirely focused on her father.

“Daddy, I’ve been telling you since yesterday, you’re making a mistake,” she said. “Ladybug is the greatest hero in Paris. She’s saved the city again and again and you want to make her into a criminal? Do you want people to think that being brave and kind is a _crime_?”

 _Greatest hero in Paris?_ Marinette blinked. Had she heard that right?

Mayor Bourgeois waved his hands, trying to quiet her. “Sweetheart, we’ve gone over this,” he said. “Daddy knows some very smart people who think that this wouldn’t be a good—”

“Very _rich_ people, you mean,” Chloe scoffed. “I’m not stupid, Daddy.”

“Well, yes, they are also rich. But Chloe, don’t you see? I’m doing this for _you_. If I lose this position…”

 “Then what? You get kicked out of your office?” She gestured around the room. “Big whoop. You still have the hotel. You’ll still have _everything_!”

“But dearest…”

“Don’t ‘dearest’ me! You just don’t want to lose power! Coward!”

The mayor stiffened.

“What did you say?”

“I said you’re a _coward_!” Chloe spat. “And if you go through with this, all of Paris will know!”

The mayor pushed himself up from his desk. “That’s quite enough from you, Chloe. Back to your room.”

“What?”

“I said, back to your room!” he pointed towards the door.

Chloe glared at him for a moment, then spun on her heel and blew out of the room, still not looking at anyone.

The mayor sunk back to his desk, head in hands. Everyone stared at him.

“She’s right, you know,” he said at last. “You’re all right. It’s just…”

He lapsed into silence.

They all just kept staring. Everyone seemed to be waiting for someone else to move.

Finally, he raised his head, face set.

“Well, to hell with it,” he said. “I’m the mayor, I’ll do what I can to protect Paris. Ladybug, you have my support.”

A cheer went up from the crowd. Marinette felt herself melting and rising at once, swept up in the excitement. So much so that she almost didn’t feel her phone buzzing in her pocket.

She took it out.

The screen declared it was an unknown caller.

She considered not answering it, but something told her that it was important. She called for silence and flipped it open.

“Hello, Ladybug.”

Marinette froze. The voice was deep, silky, and sinister. She knew that voice, though she had only heard it once before.

“Hawkmoth,” she breathed.

“Yes, so nice to finally speak with you,” he said. “I don’t mean to intrude your personal time with business calls, but I have a deal for you.”

Marinette’s frozen face morphed instantly into a scowl. “And what makes you think I’d want to deal with you?”

Then she heard another voice, slightly muffled, as if coming from a distance.

“Don’t do it, Marinette!” it said. “Stay away! I’m fine, I can—”

Then the voice went silent, but she didn’t need to hear more to know who it was.

Adrien.

“So,” Hawkmoth said, voice oozing smugness. “Care to talk?”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Muahaha it's still March! I win!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the chapter! See you in April sometime!  
> Also, thank you everyone for reading, liking, and commenting! Honestly, you're the reason I am still writing this and it's turning out to be a lot of fun, so yeah! Thank you! :D


	9. Confrontations II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the stakes are raised

“What do you want?” Marinette’s voice was cold, edged with steel. The whole room heard it. Their jubilation, already fading, was swept away, replaced with confusion and fear. Whispers passed from ear to ear— _Hawkmoth? It’s Hawkmoth?_ Marinette gripped the phone tighter.

“I have someone I believe is important to you,” Hawkmoth said lazily. “Perhaps an exchange is in order?”

An exchange. Her Miraculous.

Marinette swallowed, choked on her own spit, and hacked loudly into the receiver.

She couldn’t. But then again, how could she _not?_ It was _Adrien!_

Her stomach twisted guiltily for a moment at the thought of giving up the fight against evil for the sake of a crush before she recalled herself. It wasn’t just a crush. It was her partner. Sure, he could take care of himself, she couldn’t abandon him. She _wouldn’t._  

But she wasn’t about to give up her Miraculous, either.

There had to be another way.

She took a deep breath, steadying herself.

She would play this game.

“An exchange, huh?” she said, trying to sound nonchalant. “What do you propose?”

“Don’t insult your intelligence, Miss Marinette,” Hawkmoth scoffed, “You get your _friend_ , and I get your Miraculous. No one gets hurt.”

The way he said “friend” caught Marinette off-guard. Wouldn’t he have just said “partner,” if he had Chat Noir?

Maybe it _wasn’t_ Chat Noir.

She had assumed Hawkmoth captured Adrien while he was in superhero form, but what if he hadn’t? Who was she rescuing?

She took a breath to steady herself.

_Play dumb, get information. Figure this out._

“What do you want me to do?” she said.

She could almost hear Hawkmoth smiling.

“I will send you an address sometime in the next twenty-four hours. Meet me there, _alone_ , and your friend will not be hurt _._ ”

His voice had a final sort of ring to it, like he was about to hang up and leave her answerless. Marinette’s composure slipped.

“Wait!” she burst out.

“Yes?” Hawkmoth said. He sounded amused, dang it.

“C-can I…” She took a breath. “I need to speak to the hostage, to make sure he isn’t injured.”

“Hmm,” Hawkmoth mused, weighing options. Then he spoke. “Fifteen seconds. That is all.”  

Marinette heard a slight shuffle, then a familiar, “Hello?”

“Adrien!” Marinette said. “What happened? Are you okay? What—”

“It’s fine, Marinette, I’m fine,” Adrien said quickly. “Just do what he says. I.. um… I tore a bit of a hole in my jeans, but I’m not hurt, I swear.”

“You what? Adrien!”

But the line was silent.

Marinette stood stock still, phone still pressed to her ear. Alya was tugging at her sleeve. Her dad’s arms were on her shoulders, holding her steady, but she barely noticed.

Why on Earth would Adrien have wasted the only fifteen seconds they had to talk telling her about his _jeans?_ Of all the pointless, useless things…

Then she realized—jeans. He was wearing jeans. He was telling her he has been captured as Adrien.

And if Hawkmoth didn’t know…

A plan began to gel in Marinette’s mind, one she felt sure was on Adrien’s mind as well. Play the game at first, then transform, catch him off guard…

The tables would be turned. They could end this. They could _win_ this.

She blinked and the world came back to her all at once, in a clamor—dozens of voices were asking what was going on, the words “hostage” and “Adrien” thrown from every corner of the room.

“Marinette,” Nino was saying desperately. “What’s going on? Where’s Adrien?”

Marinette closed her eyes and took a deep breath, letting her mind settle. When she opened her eyes once more, they were bright and determined. She turned to Nino.

“Hawkmoth has him,” she said. “But we’re going to get him back.”

 

Adrien didn’t particularly like being tied up.

It wasn’t that he was in a particularly uncomfortable position. Hawkmoth had been surprisingly accommodating, for a supervillain. His hands were tied in front of him, and his feet attached firmly but not too tightly together. It was just that the bonds chafed against his wrists when he moved, and the stone floor warehouse-like building he had woken up in was beginning to make his butt cold.

Oh, and also, he was a prisoner. Not super fond of that bit.

He watched as Hawkmoth paced back and forth across the floor, checking a small device in his hand with something that almost looked like anxiety. Hatred and anger flared in his chest. He could not believe that this disgusting man had him in his power.

 _Disgusting?_ Adrien wondered. Yes, it was not too strong a word. He was the kind of man who took advantage of people at their lowest, their most vulnerable. The kind who craved power above all else. He cared nothing for the safety of others, for their happiness, for their _lives_.

He was everything Adrien fought against. 

Adrien checked himself. He needed to keep his anger controlled, low-burning, on reserve for when he needed it most.

Because they would turn the tables on him.

They would attack.

Hawkmoth had no idea what he’d just done. He hadn’t captured a hostage, he’d trapped a hero, and that hero was going to _fight_.

Adrien had thought of transforming. He’d thought of it as soon as he saw Hawkmoth burst in through his door. But he’d hesitated. If he transformed in front of Hawkmoth, he would be revealing his identity to his nemesis. If he lost that fight, he’d lose his Miraculous. Where would that put Ladybug?

Then, the butterflies swarmed him. In that haze of brightness someone pressed a damp cloth to his face and the world faded into darkness.

Now, with his arms and legs tied together and no exit in sight, transformation seemed more like handing himself over than fighting back. Better to wait. Adrien’s lips quirked into a smile. His lady was coming. And if his message had gotten through—which he was sure it had—she would be armed with the knowledge that Hawkmoth may be expecting one angry hero, but certainly not _two_. When she arrived, Hawkmoth would see how dangerous an angry Ladybug and her Cat could be.

 

Marinette hadn’t put down her phone all day.

She held it by her side as she discussed plans with the mayor, as they debated preemptive measures, as Sabrina’s dad, the chief of police, rushed to organize his squad to check on the Agreste mansion. She clutched it tightly when they gave their report: Adrien’s bodyguard and Nathalie were found inside; the security system had been triggered, but soon lifted; there was no evidence regarding the location of either Adrien or Gabriel. She tapped it distractedly as she discussed further plans in hushed, private rooms, rooms where the secret of Adrien’s identity, so central to her plan, would remain at least partially a secret, at least for now. She kept it on her leg as they ate dinner in a café near City Hall, barely paying attention to the scant conversations going on around her, resisting the urge to check it again. It would buzz when the message came. It would buzz when the message came.

She flipped it over and opened the screen.

Nothing.

“Marinette, you need to rest,” her mother said when they had at last returned home, accompanied by Alya and Nino. “You’ll be better prepared if you sleep a little.”

Marinette shook her head. “I’m not about to miss this, mom.”

“We’ll take turns watching,” Alya offered. “Please, Marinette, let us help. We can’t do anything else.”

Marinette hesitated, then consented. Everyone looked relieved, and ushered her up to bed.

To her credit, she did _try_ to sleep. But sleeping when your partner is probably tied up somewhere, facing who knows what sort of terrors, is not easy. She wanted movement. She wanted action.

Stupid Hawkmoth and his stupid mind games. She would kick his butt when she found him.

She had just begun to doze off when there was a knock on her trap door. Sabine poked her head up.

“Marinette?” she said. “You have a message.”

Marinette was up, through the trap door, and down the stairs in a matter of seconds, her stomach queasy and her heart in her throat. She tore into the kitchen and snatched her phone from the counter.

The message was curt. Precise.

_Arc de Triomphe. Midnight. Remember: alone._

Marinette didn’t waste any time.

 

The sky was dark, edged with shadows of clouds. Golden lights shone on the face of the Arc de Triomphe, catching its edges and throwing shadows upward. Ordinarily, it would have been gorgeous; now, it was ominous.

The mayor’s limousine pulled up to the base of the arc, then stopped. Ladybug stepped out, slammed the door, and watched as it drove away. All according to plan, but it made her shiver nonetheless. By all appearances, she was completely alone. She knew that she was not—her parents and the mayor would never have allowed that, and anyway, she wouldn’t have wanted it. But the police were good at their job, and she saw no sign of them. 

She took a deep breath.

_Stick to the plan._

“I’m here, Hawkmoth!” she called out. “Come out where I can see you!”

There was no response. Ladybug suppressed the urge to bite her lip. Her back tingled, feeling the pressure of imagined, watching eyes. She backed against the stone of the arc, taking comfort in its solidity.

“I’m here!” she said again. “I came alone! Now you stick to your end of the bargain!”

Still there was no response. Ladybug almost reached for her phone, but remembered she had left it in the car with the mayor. No place for a phone in a fight. Now she wondered if that had been a bad idea.

Then, a flicker of light off to her right caught her eye and she saw it—a white butterfly, flitting through the shadows of the pillar. As she watched, more and more gathered until there was a swarm of them, staying disturbingly still. It was almost hypnotizing.

Ladybug shook herself. These were Hawkmoth’s butterflies. She pulled out her yo-yo.

“This isn’t the same thing!” she shouted. “Come out where I can see you!”

Nothing happened for a long moment. She watched the butterflies.

The steady stream had nearly stopped. Now there was a mass of butterflies in front of her. Any swipe with her yo-yo disturbed the cloud for a mere instant. Finally, one lazy butterfly that had been flitting in loops around the far pillar flew over to join the group. The instant it entered the swarm, the butterflies jerked into formation, into a face—Hawkmoth.

“Ah, Miss Marinette.” It grinned. “All dressed up, I see.”

If he was using her name to unnerve her, it hadn't worked. Much. Ladybug scowled. “Where’s Adrien?”  
The butterfly smile dropped. “You’ll see Adrien when you stick to your end of the deal,” it said.

Ladybug held her scowl, but her heart thrilled with nerves. “What do you mean? I’m here, alone, right where you wanted me to be. I have my Miraculous.”

“Alone? Are you really?” the face said. “Try again.”

Ladybug stiffened. Could he see through his butterflies? She should have thought of that, dang it. Too late now.

“Fine, I brought people with me,” she admitted. “I’ll tell them to back off if you promise to come out.”

“Hmm,” the face mused. It adopted a look of contemplation for a moment, eyes wandering from pillar to pillar, considering. Then it snapped back to her, brows lowered, mouth set, and uttered a single syllable:

“No.”

The butterflies burst apart and flew directly at her. She swung at them, but with every strike they simply parted and reformed without a scratch. In seconds, they were on her, covering her arms, her legs, her face. Then she was rising, borne by a multitude of tiny, supernaturally strong wings. She twisted and struggled, but every time she managed to slip away they caught her before she fell more than a few inches.

This was rather not according to plan.

She heard footsteps—the police, their cover blown, were rushing out to help her. But what could they do against a swarm of butterflies? She tried to find some place to throw her yo-yo, someplace to latch on to and pull herself out, but the butterflies’ shining wings covered her eyes, blinding her. She had no idea where she was, how high she was, how far she had to fall.

Then, they were gone, and Ladybug dropped.

She only fell a few feet before her feet hit cold stone and she tumbled forward, landing on her hands and knees. Bright spots swam in front of her eyes, mixing with the dissipating cloud of butterflies.

The sharp click of a footstep cut through the fluttering of their wings. She looked up.

Hawkmoth stood, smiling down at her. One hand rested lightly on his baton, the other held tightly to the arm of Adrien, who was standing next to him, feet and hands bound together. Adrien was staring at her, eyes wide, but there was no panic there—only anticipation. His shoulders were tight, ready for action. The sight of him was like a breath of air. So what if this wasn’t according to plan? They had never needed the police before anyway—only each other.

Ladybug nodded at him, and he nodded in return. A silent confirmation—both were ready. They could do this.

Hawkmoth took a step forward.

“Well, well,” he smirked. “If it isn’t Ladybug. Fancy seeing you here tonight.”

Ladybug pushed herself to her feet, pushing her bangs out of her eyes.

“Hawkmoth.”  She nodded curtly at him, fixing a scowl on her face. “Was that really necessary?”

“Necessary?” Hawkmoth echoed, raising an eyebrow. “The policemen will not interfere now. That was necessary. That was the deal.”

“Right, the deal,” Ladybug said, taking a deep breath. “So, how are we doing this? You give me Adrien, then I…”

Hawkmoth shook his head, smirking. “I’m not a fool, Marinette. Be a good girl and take out those earrings. Then we’ll deal.”

Ladybug frowned, partially at his words, partially at his insistent use of her real name. “But I’ll be defenseless,” she pointed out.

Hawkmoth tugged on Adrien’s arm, forcing him to take a stumbling step forwards. “Do you want to help him or not?”

Ladybug flicked her eyes to Adrien, then back to Hawkmoth.

Well, it was now or never.

“Fine,” she said at last. She bent her head down, reaching towards her ears, and saw out of the corner of her eye Hawkmoth leaning forward, watching intently. Good. Her fingers brushed against her miraculous, the cool metal steeling her, giving her strength. She took a breath.

“Adrien, NOW!”

Ladybug dropped her hands to her yo-yo and flung it at Hawkmoth. Hawkmoth, despite being caught off guard, managed to bat it aside with his baton, but loosened his grip on Adrien as he did so. Adrien twisted away. There was a wild call of “Claws out!” and Plagg spiraled out of Adrien’s shirt and into his ring in a flash.

And there was Chat Noir, hero of Paris.

He slashed away his bonds with his claws and flipped next to Ladybug, pulling out his baton. They stood, shoulder to shoulder, weapons ready, waiting to see what Hawkmoth would do next.

They had expected one of two things. The first was an attack, an angry scream, and possibly a final battle. The second was a hasty retreat, a promise to return, a swearing of vengeance. They had prepared for both—they were ready for both. 

What they had not expected was the clatter of the baton slipping from Hawkmoth’s limp fingers and hitting the roof. They had not prepared for the look in his eyes as he stared at Chat Noir—confusion, pain, incredulity. They were not ready for his soft whisper, barely audible above the night’s wind.

“No,” he said. “No, it can’t be. Not my son. Not my _son_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! That's this chapter! Sorry I missed the April update, school was trying to kick my butt (don't worry, I fended it off).  
> Only a couple more chapters left until the end! I'm really looking forward to what's coming up--I hope you enjoy it too!


	10. A Happy Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the penny drops and the fight begins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick shout out to my friend and roommate for beta-ing these last couple chapters! You are beyond awesome, thank you so much! :D

A fresh gust of wind swept across the top of the Arc de Triomphe. Chat Noir barely noticed. His eyes were fixed on the figure in front of him, disbelieving.

“ _Father?_ ” he whispered. The word was an accusation, a challenge.

Hawkmoth took a step back. His swaggering arrogance was gone, his condescending smirk replaced with a look of mixed horror and disbelief.

He did not deny it.

“No,” Chat said, gritting his teeth. “You’re not my father.”

Chat knew his father. He knew that he was cold, severe, and distant. But he also knew that, though he may not show it, he cared for people. He cared for his son. He was harsh, but he wasn’t _cruel_. He wasn’t _Hawkmoth_.

Still Hawkmoth said nothing.

Chat snarled.

“I said, you’re not my father!” he shouted. “Say you’re not my father!”

Hawkmoth’s face twisted. For an instant, he looked like he had been stabbed. Then the expression was gone, replaced with a mask of calm. He took a deep breath and planted his feet on the stones.

“Adrien, calm down,” he said.  “I can explain.”

The sound of his name on Hawkmoth’s tongue made him want to vomit. He could hear it now. It was his father’s voice. He swallowed bile.

“Explain?” he spat. “You _kidnappe_ d me!”

 “Yes, but listen—”

“No! I will not!” Chat screamed. “My father wouldn’t kidnap people! He wouldn’t attack people!”

Chat felt a hand on his shoulder and glanced over to see Ladybug, eyes fixed on Hawkmoth. At first he thought she was trying to calm him down, but then he noticed that her hand was quivering with suppressed rage. He looked back to Hawkmoth, renewed fury in his eyes.

Hawkmoth took a deep breath. “Adrien,” he said, and Chat shivered again. “You don’t understand. I did it for you.”

Chat laughed humorlessly. “Sure, for me! Of course! How could I not see!”

Anger flashed behind Hawkmoth’s eyes. “I did it for our family,” he said harshly.

“Right! Because attacking your _son_ definitely helped our family!”  
“I didn’t know you were—”

“Would it have mattered?” Chat interrupted. “You did _kidnap_ me after all—”

“Adrien, don’t you want your mother back?” Hawkmoth snapped.

Chat stiffened. Ladybug’s hand tightened on his shoulder. An image of his mother flashed in his mind, her green eyes shining, her smile bright like sunshine.

Then it faded.

“Mom’s gone,” he said stiffly. “What does that have to do with anything?”

Hawkmoth shook his head. “It’s everything. Don’t you see? I can get her back. With both miraculouses, I would have the power to find her. We could be a family again.”

Chat opened his mouth, but no sound came out. His mother. His family. They could go back to the way things were before, when his father was warm, when his house was happy…

Then he stopped.

“Why attack everyone, then?” he asked. “Why play the villain?”

Hawkmoth frowned. “I had to draw out the Ladybug and Chat Noir miraculouses. Without a force to fight against, they could have stayed dormant for centuries.”

Become evil to draw out the good. Chat saw the logic in it—the cold, calculating logic.

He saw his father.

“So you became that force,” he said slowly. “You became the villain.”

Hawkmoth saw his expression and his frown deepened. “Sometimes a sacrifice is necessary to achieve the greater good.”

“And you were willing to sacrifice all of Paris?” Chat said in disbelief.

“I was willing to do what I had to do,” Hawkmoth said shortly.

“To capture your son?”

“I would never have hurt—”

“It doesn’t matter!” Chat said. “Father, this isn’t right! You have to stop this!”

Hawkmoth pulled himself up to his full height. “Adrien. You have no idea what I’ve already sacrificed. I cannot, and will not, stop now. Give me your miraculous. You will thank me for it. Trust me.”

“Trust you?” Chat scoffed. “ _Trust you?!_ Why would I do that?!”

“I am your father,” Hawkmoth said simply, as if that was enough. “I know what’s best for you.”

Chat felt tears starting in his eyes. He shook his head as if to shake them away. “You’re Hawkmoth,” he said. “If you go through with this, you may get her back, but you won’t have me.”

There was a breath of a pause.

“What?” Hawkmoth said at last, his voice low.

“I said, you won’t have me!” Chat shouted. He felt his anger bubbling. “You can’t do this! I won’t stand for it!”

Hawkmoth was silent for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper.

“You must have forgotten,” he said.

Chat narrowed his eyes. “What?” 

“You must not remember what it was like, losing her,” he said, a bit louder. “Do you know what it did to me?”

“I—” Chat started, then faltered. He did remember. He remembered that feeling in the pit of his stomach, the guilt, the pain, the pushing it all down, the getting used to it. He remembered his father’s face, the creeping coldness. He never knew how his father had felt. His father hadn’t spoken of it, hadn’t showed it. Even in those moments that made Adrien break down in tears, those moments when her absence was so clearly and painfully _there_ , his father had remained stoic. Impassive. Controlled.

Now that cold façade was gone. Now his shoulders were tense, shaking, his muscles taught, his face contorted.

“It tore me apart,” he said, teeth clenched. “She was the center of my world—and then she was gone. Just like that.” He shook his head. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Of course I understand,” Chat said, swallowing past the rising lump in his throat. “She was my _mother_. But that still doesn’t justify this. You have to stop. Father…”

“She was my _wife!_ ” Hawkmoth snapped, suddenly angry. “You don’t… you can’t…” He looked from Chat to Ladybug, his eyes blazing with fury. “You both think me evil,” he snarled. “You think nothing justifies this. But I can show you. I can show you my loss. Then you will understand. Then you will have no _choice_ but to understand.”

He held out his hand. One of the butterflies landed in it, wings fluttering.

“And when you understand, you won’t fight anymore.”

Hawkmoth closed his other hand over the butterfly. Darkness gathered around his fingers, rushing into them. When he lifted his hand, the butterfly’s wings were black, shot through with glimmering purple.

Chat inhaled sharply. An akuma? But who…

The butterfly fluttered out of his palm, into the air. It flew up to Hawkmoth’s face, wings brushing against his face. Then it plunged down and struck the brooch at his throat with a shower of darkness.

Chat felt his heart drop.

“Oh, no,” Ladybug breathed. Her hand was tight on Chat’s shoulder. “No… Chat, we have to do something…”

But it was too late.

A glowing purple mask appeared over Hawkmoth’s eyes, superimposed over his own.

They didn’t hear what he said. They only saw the darkness bubble out from his throat, engulfing his frame and extending to the butterflies around him. Then the bubbles faded, and they saw.

It was still Hawkmoth, but not like they had ever seen him before. His brooch was black, polluted—deep purple threads writhed around its edges, as if something inside was struggling, fighting. His ordinary suit was gone, replaced with a deep purple vest under a shimmering black tailcoat. The lapels of the coat extended upwards, over his shoulders, brushing the edges of two glowing purple wings hovering over his back, lifting him off the ground. Those upper wings were complimented by the tails of the coat, which widened and tapered and curled like a butterfly’s. His cane was once more in his hands. It glinted with energy, a crisscrossing pattern of glowing violet lines running across its length. Chat tightened his grip on his staff, preparing to fight.

Then Chat caught sight of Hawkmoth’s eyes and froze. All whiteness was gone, leaving glinting, pitch-black orbs. They should have seemed inhuman—cold, emotionless, like twin marbles on a life-sized doll—but they did not. They seemed angry. They seemed _pained_. He forced himself to look away, to focus on the butterflies that were beginning to circle agitatedly.

Chat felt Ladybug give his shoulder a squeeze and released him. He looked over. She was gripping her yo-yo tightly, her eyes narrowed at Hawkmoth.

“Chat,” she said quickly. “Adrien. I know he’s your father. But we need to take him down.”

Chat felt his heart beating faster. “I know.”

“We don’t have to hurt him,” she added. “Just beat him. Like we’ve beaten every akuma before.”

Chat closed his eyes and exhaled. “Right,” he said. “Just like always.”

And then the battle began.

The butterflies flew at them like bullets, speeding through the air. The both dodged out of the way, Ladybug to the left and Chat to the right, though they had no idea what the butterflies would even do.

Hawkmoth snarled. “Nimble, I see. Well, let’s see you dodge _this!_ ”

The butterflies scattered, filling the air, blocking their view of each other and of Hawkmoth. Chat swung his baton at them wildly, but for each one he struck down, there were another two to take its place. In moments, they had overwhelmed him, landing on his legs, his arms, his chest. Once landed they simply sat there, their wings slowly opening and closing. Chat tried to brush them off, but every time he did they simply fluttered back. 

“Ladybug?” he called out. “Ladybug, where are you? What’s going on?”  
Then a butterfly brushed against his face. When it touched his bare skin, it didn’t land.

It melted into him.

It felt as if his cheek had been struck with cold water. The place where the butterfly had touched him tingled, the feeling spreading outwards in ripples across his body. The edges of his vision began to darken.

“Ladybug?” he called out again, more urgently this time. “Ladybug!”

But there was no answer.

Then he was not on the roof anymore. He was in his room.

He looked around. It was a nice day. The sun was streaming in through the windows, one of which was cracked open to let in a slight breeze. Everything was neat and in order.

His chest felt strangely tight. He raised a hand to it. Through the soft fabric of his t-shirt he could feel his heart racing. Why was his heart racing?

He walked to his couch and sat down. The cushion compressed under his weight.

Time passed. The wind ruffled his hair. His heart did not calm.

Then he heard a knock at his door and his stomach dropped. Yes. Yes, of course. The door. The knock at the door.

He rose and went to answer it.

When he touched the handle, he felt a wave of dread wash over him, so intense it filled his lungs. He forced himself to breathe and turned the knob.  

Behind the door was Nathalie, holding her clipboard tightly to her chest, almost like a shield. Her eyes were red.

“Adrien,” she said, her voice carefully controlled. “Please sit down. I have something to tell you.”

Another wave cascaded over him. He felt as if his knees were buckling, collapsing, yet his body stayed upright, unmoved. He made his way over to the couch and sat down. Nathalie followed. She did not sit.

“Adrien, it’s… it’s your mother,” she said. “She’s gone.”

If it had been waves that were striking him before, this was a tsunami. Dread and fear and loss pounded down on him, crushing him, breaking him. His throat constricted. He couldn’t speak. He realized dimly within the torrent that he knew this scene—he had lived these moments. But not like this. It was as if every emotion he had experienced were removed, multiplied, and thrown back at him with a vengeance. He didn’t want to breathe. He didn’t want to feel. He just wanted to curl up and break, to sob until the world passed away, until everything disappeared.

Then he felt something grab his wrist.

He looked down at his arm, forcing his eyes to focus. There was nothing there. But he definitely felt it—something tugging, grabbing at his fingers. He tried to twist away and felt the grip tighten. His room began to shimmer and fade, sliding between a sunny afternoon and a dark roof.

Then everything snapped back into place.

He was on his knees on the stone roof. The butterflies had retreated and were now formed a fluttering dome around him, shutting out the moonlight. In what little light was left, Chat saw Hawkmoth, silhouetted against the churning mass of black and purple, gripping his wrist, reaching for his ring.

Chat didn’t think. He just yelled.

“Cataclysm!”

Dark power rushed into his hand. Hawkmoth snarled and dropped the hand, stepping back, letting the butterflies surge back in. This time, they didn’t hesitate. They flew straight for Chat’s face. Chat swiped wildly at them with his glowing claw and they dropped to the ground in a shower of dust. Then he turned tail and sprinted across the roof on all fours, as far away from Hawkmoth as he could manage.

“Ladybug!” Chat cried wildly. “Don’t let them touch your skin!”

“Good… to know!” came a voice from somewhere to his left.

Chat felt his heart lift. She was okay. He ran towards the source of her voice, calling her name, scanning the thick storm of butterflies for signs of human life. “Ladybug! Where are you?”

“I… ugh! Hang on!” she said. There was a brief pause. Then a cry of, “Lucky Charm!” and a flash of pink light. Something large and boxy fell out of the sky.

There was a moment’s breath, then a whoosh of air from somewhere in front of him. He shielded his face as butterflies were blown past, caught up in the wind. When they had passed, he looked up.

There was Ladybug, crouching behind a large, red, black-spotted fan. In the clear space in front of the fan stood Hawkmoth, exposed, holding an arm up against the wind.

“Chat, now!” Ladybug yelled. “His brooch!”

Chat didn’t hesitate. He dove forward, arm outstretched, reaching for Hawkmoth’s throat.

Time slowed. Chat’s vision narrowed. He saw Hawkmoth raise his arm, exposing the brooch at his neck. Chat stretched his fingers forward. He was inches away. Centimeters.

Then he felt something tap his chest and he looked down. There was Hawkmoth’s cane, bubbling with blackness, sinking into his chest.

The roof was gone. He was back in his room. It was dark. He heard simple words, echoing, chasing each other’s tails. _Gone. Your mother—she’s gone. Gone._ They writhed around him, crescendoing and decrescendoing like storm-tossed waves, permeating his mind, his core, drowning him, filling his lungs with everything but air. _Gone. Gone_.

Then the world snapped back and he was on his stomach on the roof, but the words would not fade. _Gone. Gone. She’s gone._

He was dimly aware of polished shoes hovering slightly off the ground in front of him. He raised his head and saw Hawkmoth, suspended in the air by the glowing purple wings on his back.

He looked down at him and smiled.

“You see, Adrien?” he said. “You see now what I suffered? Don’t you think I deserve a chance to end it? To fix it?”

Chat wanted to say that he didn’t, that this wasn’t right. He had said that before, hadn’t he? He must have had a good reason. But his head was filled with echoes and his lungs were filled with sorrow and he couldn’t breathe. Why had he tried to fight? _Wasn’t_ it right to try to end this?

“That’s it,” Hawkmoth said. His smile widened. “Just give me your ring and this can all be over.”

Chat rolled onto his back and held his hand in front of his face. He saw his ring there, black surface glinting in the purple light of Hawkmoth’s wings. As he watched, one of the segments blinked and went dark.

 _Just take it off_ , a small voice whispered. _It’s the right thing to do._

He reached up his other hand and took hold of the ring.

Then something twisted around his ankle. He looked down, but before he had a chance to see what was going on, he was yanked backwards, away from Hawkmoth, away from his spiraling thoughts.

Towards Ladybug.

She was reeling him in, her yo-yo wrapped around his ankle. When she had gotten him behind the fan, she turned back to Hawkmoth, scooping something off of the ground. Dust? Ashes?

Oh wait. It was butterfly dust. From his Cataclysm attack.

What was she going to do with that?

“How do you like a smokescreen, Butterfly?” she cried, and hurled the dust into the fan.

A rapidly expanding cloud billowed into the air, shielding them from view. Before he had time to think, Ladybug grabbed his arm and pulled him away from the fan, towards a door in the roof’s large central structure. Chat tried to do more than be dragged along, but his legs were like jelly beneath him.

“It’s bees… you know,” he panted as Ladybug kicked the door down and pulled him inside.

“What?”

He put a hand on the wall, steadying himself. “Bees… they don’t like smoke. Not butterflies.”

Ladybug closed the door and turned back to him, mouth open. “We’re running for our lives and you want to correct my one-liners?” 

Chat smiled wanly and shrugged. “Priorities.”

Ladybug rolled her eyes, but she was smiling back. “Come on, let’s go. We only have a few minutes before Hawkmoth realizes where we’ve gone.”

There was a flight of stairs behind the door. Ladybug supported Chat as they hurried down them, as quietly as their adrenaline would allow. Finally, they came to a small gift shop and a restroom that looked almost abandoned. The gift shop was locked, but Ladybug’s foot was a pretty convincing key. They ducked inside and closed the door behind them as best they could.

“We need to recharge our kwamis,” Ladybug said, releasing her transformation and catching Tikki in the hand that wasn’t currently holding up Chat. “Tikki, there may not be any cookies, but maybe something…?”

Tikki nodded and flew away to search the shop, wavering in the air. Chat released his transformation as well to allow Plagg to do the same, but as soon as he did, his knees gave way and he sagged against Marinette’s shoulder. She let out a small, startled sound and helped him sink to the floor.

“Adrien, are you alright? What did he do to you?” she said, her hands on his shoulders.

“I’m… fine,” he said. “I just…” He took a deep breath.

“What did he do?” Marinette asked again. Her voice was gentle, but firm.

By her tone, Adrien could tell that he would get away with nothing less than the absolute truth. And why should he try to hide anything? She needed to know what Hawkmoth was capable of. But a small part of him wanted to block out the last few moments on the roof, as if ignoring them could make the pain of them go away.

It couldn’t, of course. But oh, how he wished it would.

“He made me relive my memories,” Adrien said at last, forcing the words out. “The ones from that day when I learned that my mother was…” A wave of tears sprung unexpectedly to his eyes and he choked on the words. Marinette started forward in alarm, concern etched in her features. Adrien hid his face in his arm and turned away.

“S-sorry,” he said. “I…”

“ _No_.” The intensity of her voice made him jump. He lowered his arm and turned back to her, teary eyes meeting her fiery ones. “Don’t you dare apologize for feeling.”

Adrien took a deep, shuddering breath and nodded.

“Right,” he said, his voice almost a whisper, tears streaming down his cheeks. “Sorry.”

“No—” Marinette started, then gave up with a shake of her head. “Never mind.” She let him collect himself for a few seconds, but time was short. Before long, she prompted him again.

“So, he made you relive your memories?” 

Adrien nodded. “Right. Only the emotions were stronger. So they sort of incapacitate you and…” His voice trailed off.

“And make you want to give up your Miraculous,” Marinette finished for him, wincing. “Ouch. That’s pretty terrible.”

Adrien nodded.

“But they can’t get through clothes, right?” Marinette said. Her eyes were lighting up the way they did whenever she was planning something. “And there’s not much of that exposed when we’re transformed. So if we cover up our faces with something and avoid that cane of his…”

Adrien felt his heart crawling into his throat as Marinette rattled on. He couldn’t go back there. He couldn’t face his father and his feelings about his mother and whatever else they might throw at him. He was too tired. He was too weak.

“Marinette,” he said at last, catching on to her arm. She stopped mid-sentence and looked up at him, confused. “I can’t go up there again.”

A flurry of emotions passed over Marinette’s face, too fast to read. When she spoke, her voice was gentle. “I know it’s hard, Adrien,” she said. “I know it’s your father and I know these are difficult memories. But we have to beat him.” She put her hand over his and squeezed. “We have to stop this now.”

Adrien held her eyes for a moment, then looked away, shaking his head. “No. I can’t,” he said, trying to keep the defeat out of his voice and failing miserably. “You can do it by yourself. I know you can.”

Marinette squeezed his hand again and he looked back at her. He was startled to see tears in her eyes.

“Come _on_ , chaton,” she said, laughing almost, like it was a choice between that or crying. “Please. I need you.”

 Adrien felt his own tears starting again. “No you _don’t_ , Marinette.”

Marinette shook her head vehemently, setting her mouth in a stubborn line. “Nope,” she said. “Wrong, wrong, wrong. I definitely need you, and you can definitely do this.”

“I can’t!” Adrien said, pleading now. He just wanted to be left alone, to go home and forget about all of this.

But there was nothing waiting for him at home, he realized. No father to comfort him, no mother to hold him up. No family at all. Just him. Alone.

A sob forced its way through his throat and before he knew it, he was hunched over, shuddering with tears.

“Oh, Adrien,” he heard Marinette say softly. “Come on. Come here.”

He felt Marinette’s arms wrap around his shoulders, lifting him up, pulling him into a hug. He latched on to her like a life raft, wrapping his arms around her, burying his face in her shoulder.

“Shhh,” she said, her voice soft, tender. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

Adrien raised his chin and looked over at her.

“What?” he asked hoarsely.

Marinette smiled. “I said, I’m here.”

_I’m here._

The words echoed in his mind, but not like the waves of earlier. These were like distant, chiming bells, pure and sweet. Adrien felt a beam of warmth brush his heart.

At home, he might be alone. But here, he was with someone he loved.

He sat back on his heels and took a deep breath.

 _I need you_ , she had said.

She was right, of course. But it wasn’t just that she needed him—they needed each other. Neither of them was strong enough to do this alone, but they could be each other’s strength, each other’s champions, each other’s _partners_ , until they won the fight or…

 _"Or died trying"_ were the words that tried to enter his head, but he forced them out. No one was dying today. They would win. They would end this.

Adrien took another deep breath, steadying himself.

“Okay,” he said at last. “Let’s do this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's this chapter! I hope you enjoyed it!  
> Just so you know, the next chapter will probably be the last one, so look forward to that!  
> Also, as always, thank you to everyone for reading and commenting! You guys are amazing, and you make writing this a whole lot of fun. :)


	11. Not Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the fighting ends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double update today! It didn't feel right to have everything in one chapter, so now there's this one and the epilogue.  
> Happy reading!

Adrien had barely finished speaking when a giant crash echoed in the staircase above them.

“Hawkmoth,” Marinette said, snapping upright and leaping to her feet. “We have to go, now! Tikki, spots on!”

Tikki zoomed out from between two rows of shelves to meet Marinette and with a flash of bright pink light, transformed her into Ladybug. She pulled Adrien to his feet.

“Plagg?” Adrien called, and after a moment, his own sardonic kwami appeared as well.

“This gift shop _sucks_ ,” he whined. “No camembert. No brie even! It’s unforgivable!”

Adrien smirked and raised an eyebrow, feeling his spirits lifting. “No time for that now, Plagg. Claws out!”

Adrien felt strength surging into his body as bright green light flashed around him. He flexed his leather-clad fingers, enjoying the renewed vitality of his muscles.

“Better?” Ladybug asked.

“Better,” Chat nodded. “Now let’s—”

He was interrupted by the sound of the glass door of the shop, already hanging rather crooked on its hinges, shattering. The pair whirled around to see Hawkmoth standing in the ruined doorway, surrounded by butterflies. He raised an arm.

“Left! Now!” Ladybug yelled, and the pair dodged behind a row of shelves just in time to avoid a stream of butterflies as it shot towards them.

“Plan?” Chat said, pressing his back to the shelf. “Do we have a plan?”

“I’m thinking!” Ladybug said. “For now, just dodge, and don’t get split up!”

The butterflies were pooling around them now in undulating clouds. The pair fended them off with yo-yo and staff, running and ducking between shelves, never staying in one place for too long. They knew from various sounds that Hawkmoth was gliding around in the air above them, but the horde of butterflies made him practically invisible.

“We need to get outside!” Ladybug said. “In the open air, where we can see him!”

They both looked around, searching for anything they could use to their advantage. Chat’s eyes landed on the shelf next to them. He kicked it over, sending it crashing to the ground. Butterflies swarmed around them in an instant, forcing them on the defensive once more.

“What was that for?” Ladybug shouted, back pressed against his, yo-yo spinning.

“I don’t know!” Chat called back. “A distraction? I’m improvising!”

“Well, improvise somewhere not here!”

Chat looked around again. There was a shelf in the corner with some lovely looking snow globes. A rapid extension of his baton sent them skidding across the floor, spilling glass fragments, confetti, and water. The butterfly swarm thinned as a wave of them went to investigate the movement, giving Chat and Ladybug the few seconds they needed to scramble towards the doorway. A shout echoed behind them, but they didn’t look back. Pounding adrenaline carried them up the stairs and through the doorway.

“The fan! Get to the fan!” Ladybug called.

They sprinted towards it and leapt behind it, spinning it around just in time to aim it at the geyser of butterflies that burst from the roof entry. The stream scattered in the wind, some blown into the sky, others against the wall, and still others back into the doorway.

But while the air could force away the butterflies, it failed against the man.

“Cowering behind a fan?” Hawkmoth said, stepping out onto the roof, tails whipped back in the wind. “Why do you insist on running away?”

He surged forward, ethereal wings pumping against the air, and swung at the fan with his baton. Chat and Ladybug didn’t need words—they simply acted. Chat took hold of the fan and jerked it backwards, out of the baton’s path. As it whiffed through the air, Ladybug flung her yo-yo outwards, spinning it around the shaft. She yanked, hard, intending to pull it back to her, but Hawkmoth was ready. He instantly shifted his attention to keeping his hold, which he did, with difficulty. With distraction.  

“Chat! Now!” Ladybug yelled.

Chat surged forward, reaching again for Hawkmoth’s neck, but the distraction had not been enough. The instant Hawkmoth heard Ladybug’s voice, he leapt backwards, freeing his baton from her yo-yo and striking out in one fluid motion. He caught Chat in the knees, sweeping his feet out from under him and sending him sprawling onto the roof. Chat reacted as fast as his cat-like reflexes would allow, flipping over and scrambling backwards, away from Hawkmoth and his glowing baton.

“Uh, got a plan B, m’lady?” he asked, not taking his eyes from the weapon.

There was no response.

He glanced behind him and saw Ladybug lying on the roof, butterflies settling on her motionless body. The evil bugs must have managed to fly behind the fan and catch her off-guard while she focused on Hawkmoth. Chat felt a spike of real fear as he turned to face Hawkmoth again, alone.

“Well, well,” Hawkmoth said, lowering himself to the ground. His heels clicked against the stone of the roof as he took several slow steps forward, baton extended towards Chat’s chest. “Looks like she’ll be giving up soon enough. How about you? Do you need another reminder? Do you still not understand?”

He scrambled farther backwards and felt his back hit the fan. Butterflies swarmed on either side. He was trapped. He knew he should look around for an escape, another strategy, but he couldn’t take his eyes from the tip of the baton. It seethed with black and purple, glowing, undulating. Echoes of memories gripped his heart like chains of ice.

“No… please…”

“Don’t run away from this,” Hawkmoth said. He was still moving forward, steps inexorably slow. “You dare think I ever had any escape? This is my _reality_.”

“No…” Chat tore his eyes from the baton at last, scouring the roof for some means of escape, but saw none. He tried to push the fan backwards, but it bumped up against Ladybug’s prone form. Any more motion would tip it completely, and he would be finished.

Hawkmoth was going to win.

His father was going to destroy him.

He looked up, one last time, and saw Hawkmoth’s eyes, deep and black, narrowed now, triumphant.

_No._

Those were not his father’s eyes. He knew his father’s eyes—cold, steely blue, shot through with storm clouds when he was angry. These black orbs were alien. Monstrous. This was not his father.

_Father, what have you done to yourself?_

This was not his father. But maybe his father was in there somewhere.

“Father!” Chat called out, renewed urgency in his voice. “Father, I know you can hear me! Stop!”

The baton stalled. Hesitated. Hawkmoth’s eyebrows knit together, mouth quirking into a frown.

“Father, you don’t want to do this!” Chat continued, desperate now. “You don’t want to hurt me! I know that! You want to protect me—you want what’s best for me! You want our family back!”

Hawkmoth’s frown deepened. The arm holding the baton lowered slightly, though the tip was still inches from Chat’s chest.

Chat felt tears in his eyes. “Father, you love—”

 

* * *

 

Ladybug’s world was dark. Then the darkness began to solidify around her, dividing itself into shapes. Stone walls. A bright, blue sky. Her best friend, standing at the other end of the alley, staring. A crushing realization that her life as she knew it had passed.

Then the scene was swept away like smeared paint. Now she was at her computer, its bluish light giving everything in her dark room an alien tinge. She saw the video on the screen before her. Its title seemed to expand, to fill her whole world. Her life was over. It was her fault.

The computer’s light dimmed, grew smaller. Now it was her phone, held with trembling hands in front of her face, its tinny speakers booming with the incriminating words that would make the world turn against her. The string of sound wormed its way into her ears and snaked through her mind, expanding, stifling, suffocating.

_Valid questions… is a middle schooler really fit… really fit… really fit…_

She was not. They were right. It was her fault. Her fault. It would not be okay.

She could feel herself shrinking, the words paralyzing her with fear and doubt and guilt. She had a dim awareness of some need to move, to do something, but what? She didn’t know. She should just give up. What was she doing?

She closed her eyes, ready to surrender to the darkness, when she heard a familiar voice. It was yelling something. She couldn’t tell what. Suddenly it was very important that she know. She strained her ears, but it was like she was underwater, all sounds numbed, distorted. But she knew that voice. She remembered words it had said. Important words. What had it said?

It was coming back in pieces. A hand on her shoulder. A flash of bright green eyes, familiar, comforting. But what had he said?

Finally the words broke through, ringing clearly in her mind.

“You aren’t alone, Marinette. And we can deal with this, together.”

In a flash, the memories came back to her. Chat. Alya. Nino. Her parents. Her friends. People who didn’t even know her. She wasn’t alone. They supported her. Trusted her. And now, they were relying on her.

Her eyes snapped open. She was lying on the rooftop, cheek pressed against the cold stone. She could see Hawkmoth from behind the fan, but his eyes weren’t on her. They were on something else, something cowering before him, something that was still speaking frantically.

“Father, you love—” it said.

Chat.

Butterflies fluttered in all directions as she pushed herself to her knees, readied her yo-yo, and threw.

 

* * *

 

 _Y_ _ou love me_ —that’s what he had been about to say. He knew it was true. At least, he hoped it was. And if anything could stop Hawkmoth, could awaken what was left of his father inside him, that was it. But he never got the chance to find out.

Ladybug’s yo-yo streaked through the air and collided with the exposed brooch at Hawkmoth’s neck, knocking it to the roof. Chat froze for a moment, blinking. Ladybug’s shout brought him back to full awareness.

“The brooch! Now!”

Chat lunged forward. Beside him, Hawkmoth was moving too, roused by Ladybug’s shout. His arm stretched towards his goal, fingers taught, reaching…

Hawkmoth’s reach was longer, but Chat was faster. His leather-clad hand closed around the stone.

“Cataclysm!” he yelled. The brooch crumbled to dust in his fingers.

A single butterfly flitted out from the pile of dust, winding its way through the air, towards its kin. Before it could lose itself in the swarm, Ladybug’s yo-yo appeared and snagged it from the air. Moments later, it reappeared, pure and white.

The cloud of butterflies froze, bubbling over with the same darkness that had claimed them before. Now, it released them, and they scattered with a flash of bright, white wings.

Chat heard the same bubbling sound beside him, too close for butterflies. He turned and saw his father, Gabriel Agreste, hunched over on the roof, motionless.

His first instinct was to scramble backwards, to put some distance between them. The moment it occurred to him, he was ashamed of it. This man was his _father_. He hadn’t been in his right mind when he attacked them. He had never wanted to hurt his son.

But he had in the end, hadn’t he?

Gabriel groaned and pushed himself up, looking around with a dazed expression on his face. He saw Chat and started backwards, prepared to fight.

“It’s over, father,” Chat said flatly. He released his transformation. Plagg spiraled into his hand, too exhausted even to speak. “You’ve lost.”

Gabriel did not relax. His eyes as they scanned the rooftop, confirming the scene for himself. Adrien allowed himself a quick glance and saw Ladybug pick up the fan and toss it into the air, sending tendrils of ladybugs into the night, undoing all the damage they had caused. He turned his gaze back to his father and watched as he reached a hand to his own collar, searching for the brooch that must have become as familiar to him as Adrien’s ring was to him now. Only when he realized it was gone did Gabriel finally sink back, his face twisting in anger.

But when he spoke, his voice was soft, not angry.

“What have I done?” he whispered.

Then Adrien realized—it wasn’t anger. It was pain.

“I thought I could get her back,” Gabriel breathed. His voice was hoarse. “I thought, if I only had the power, I could fix this. Fix everything. But now, what do I have?” His mouth twitched into a pained smile, tears leaking out around the corners of his eyes. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”

Adrien felt his heart squeeze painfully in his chest. Part of him screamed that this man was everything he had ever fought against—that he had kidnapped and later attacked his own son, that he had willingly akumatized himself, that he had endangered all of Paris multiple times. But another part of him, the part that sobbed into Ladybug’s shoulders and melted at the words “I’m here,” saw a man who was incredibly lonely. A man who needed love. 

Finally, he spoke.

“You don’t have nothing,” he said.

Gabriel looked up, surprised, as if he had forgotten about Adrien’s presence.

“Oh?” he said.

“I’m definitely angry,” Adrien continued, heart pounding. “I’m angry at you—about what you did, and how you acted, and… and a lot of things. But.” He paused, steeling himself. “But you’re still my father. We’re still family. I want to work this out. Not right now. I don’t think I can talk right now. But…” His voice trailed off, leaving him breathless and flushed.

Gabriel’s expression was unreadable. “You… you want to talk?”

Adrien nodded. “You said I didn’t understand. I want to try to. I want to be there for you.”

The silence stretched for a moment. Gabriel was looking at him with an odd mixture of sadness and pride.

“I didn’t realize you had become so mature,” he said at last.

Then the sound of police helicopters filled the air, and the time for words was past.


	12. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double update today! If you haven't already read chapter 11, go do that first!

Adrien sat cross-legged on his couch, watching Marinette destroy Nino in Ultimate Mecha Strike III. She had her tongue out, like she always did when she was concentrating. It was adorable. Not for the first time, Adrien wondered at the amazing girl who was sitting in front of him—adorable, strong, and also, _his_.

He never stopped wondering at that.

It had been a week. A week was hardly enough time to process all the changes that had taken place, but processing they were. And things were finally starting to feel, if not normal, at least a bit less weird. Less surreal.

They had skipped school on Monday. No one complained. It seemed, that with Hawkmoth identified and captured, Paris had finally let out the collective breath it had been holding and was ready to let life continue in its normal, crazy ways. Crazy ways that sometimes meant that you were classmates with a pair of superheroes who had to skip school because they had been up until 4am capturing a supervillain.

But it wasn’t the exhaustion that had kept them from school—they had both had late nights before. It was Adrien’s need to process everything that had just happened and Marinette’s refusal to leave him alone in that giant, empty house of his, even for a school day. After the events of the night were through, both she and her parents had insisted that either he come to their house, or they go to his. He had agreed on theirs in an instant.

He had meant what he said to his father—he wanted to talk. He wanted to understand. But while that resolve may have mitigated his confusion, betrayal, and loss, it didn’t eliminate them. He had spent much of the next day in a daze, watched closely by Marinette and her parents, as well as Nathalie and the Gorilla who, to Adrien’s surprise, had showed up on Marinette’s doorstep the next morning, demanding to see that he was okay. Thanks to their careful tending, he soon came back to himself. His father may be awaiting trial, but life would go on. They would work things out eventually. In the meantime, and far beyond the meantime, he would have people taking care of him.

Returning to school had been less of an ordeal that Adrien had imagined. The mayor had come out with his official declaration of support on Monday morning, so by the time he and Marinette re-entered society, the matter was all but settled. He did get his fair share of surprise and admiration from his classmates, who had only learned from the coverage of Sunday night’s events that Adrien was Chat, but that, too, soon settled. After all, being a superhero didn’t change who he was any more than changing his clothes did.

The only thing that really affected him was the outpouring of sympathy he received from his classmates after they learned what happened to his father. Every bracing smile, every pat on the back, was a reminder that he had people around him who would support him through anything, even this. It was almost enough to bring him to tears.

Then that settled as well, and life went on as usual. Well, almost usual.

A ring from Adrien’s phone alarm cut through the air, interrupting Marinette’s Mecha Strike victory dance. She looked over at him in surprise.

“Is it really time already?” she said. “I thought we had half an hour yet.”

“Well, I guess we do, technically,” Adrien said, silencing the alarm. “But we do still have to get over there. That takes some time. And I thought it would be a good to get there a bit early, since we’re making first impressions and all.”

Alya laughed. “Marinette? Early? There’s a phrase I never thought I’d hear.” She rocked forward on the couch, looking seriously at Marinette. “This boy is going to be very good for you, Marinette.”

Marinette rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. “Yeah, yeah. I guess it would be smart to make a good impression.”

They all started to rise, shuffling around, gathering belongings. Adrien looked around for the backpacks he and Marinette had packed, finding them behind the couch. He picked them up gently, careful not to wake the kwamis sleeping inside.

“You guys nervous?” Nino asked, looking from Marinette to Adrien. “They are firemen, after all. That’s pretty intense.”

Adrien shrugged. “Well, we’ve worked with them before. Not in civilian form, but you know.”

In truth, he was a bit nervous. Nervous and excited. Their new situation—identities revealed and without a supervillain to fight against—meant that he and Ladybug could start working more closely with the city’s own peacekeepers and everyday heroes. They would be both partner and student, learning from the older men and women even as they helped them to keep Paris safe. That announcement had certainly pleased the mayor, who thought it might placate his anxious supporters. But that wasn’t why they were doing it. They were just doing what they always did—keeping peace and keeping people safe, by each other’s sides.

Nathalie, who had been managing the house in his father’s absence, saw them off at the door. The four friends walked together for some time, but eventually Marinette and Adrien had to break off to go towards the fire station while Alya and Nino continued towards the park.

“Good luck!” Alya said, giving Marinette a hug. “Kick some butt!”

Marinette smiled and hugged her back. Nino and Adrien exchanged a fist bump, decided that was hardly enough, and ended up hugging too.

“Don’t forget, you owe me a hang sesh with Chat,” Nino said as they broke apart. “And there had better be some cool rooftops or it doesn’t count.”

Adrien smiled. “Anytime, man. Just let me know.”

Then Alya and Nino departed, leaving Marinette and Adrien alone. They both turned and started walking towards the fire station, a bit slower than before.

“You ready for this?” Marinette said quietly. “It hasn’t been that long. Are you sure you don’t want more time?”

Adrien took a deep breath. “No, this is good,” he said. “I think it’ll help to focus on something, you know? Something that’s not…”

 _"Not connected to my father"_ was what he was going to say, but he couldn’t bring himself to. He didn’t need to, though. Marinette nodded in understanding.

“I’ll go talk to him soon,” Adrien said, though he knew he didn’t need to defend himself to her. “But… right now…”

Marinette took his hand in hers and squeezed. “I know. It’ll take time. That’s okay,” she said. “You have time.” Then she smiled. “And you have me.”

Adrien couldn’t help smiling back. “I know that, silly,” he said, kissing her forehead. “We have each other.”

They kept holding hands until they reached the fire station. When they finally let go, they did so with a squeeze and a nod and an unspoken promise—if one of them ever needed a hand to hold, the other would be there, ready. That promise bound them together, giving them strength, steadying them.

Let the future bring what it would. They were ready.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it!  
> Wow. This has been a crazy ride. Thank you to all of you for supporting me through it, whether that be by reading, liking, commenting, or making a  tv tropes page (!!!)--all if it is incredible, and it means so, so much to me. This is the longest thing I've ever finished (I've written more but never a complete thing), and it's thanks to you that I had the motivation to get it done. I am so grateful for every one of you. :)
> 
> Also I know I've thanked my beta-ing roommate before, but she's awesome and she deserves another shout out. So thanks Amanda, you're the best! :D
> 
> I'm not sure how active I'll be on here for the next little bit, but I'm more active on tumblr if you want to find me there! I have a writing blog (cadenzawrites.tumblr.com) where I reblog writing advice/cool quotes, as well as posting fics and original stuff. I also have an art/artspiration/etc. blog (cadenzarose.tumblr.com) and a fandom blog (cadenzaaaaa.tumblr.com), so check those out if you want! *self-promotion jazz hands*
> 
> Again, thank you so much! Stay awesome! :D


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